The Drowning Lawyer
by ApolloNico24601
Summary: The Joker once again resides in Arkham Asylum, but this time it's different. A new nurse is assigned to 'cure' him, but even she holds a dark secret of her own. Featuring Harlequin in later chapters. Set just after Dark Knight. Chapter 16 up! Plz review, it means a lot!
1. Volunteer

**Hello to anyone reading this :) This is my second ever fanfic, and considering my first one was crap, this one probably won't be much better, but I've had an idea floating around in my head so I've decided to type it down. I don't know if I'm going to continue or not, it depends what reviews say. Please give constructive criticism :)**

**I do not own the Joker or Batman or anything else apart from my OC and the ideas. If I did own the rights to DC comics, the Joker would be King of Gotham and I would be his Queen :) (Thanx to my friends for the joke ideas)**

Chapter 1

I glared up at the security camera in the corner of the cell and smirked. I could almost see the people watching squirm behind the wall. My hands were handcuffed behind me to the chair which was nailed to the floor in the middle of a white room containing me, two chairs, a table, and a seriously uncomfortable bed (also nailed to the floor). My smile widened. They had gone to so many precautions to keep me contained, but I had already spent the last half hour getting my hands in and out of the handcuffs. I chewed on my scars and hummed a tuneless tune to myself, bouncing up and down and tapping my foot. I'd considered escaping a couple of times, but this was more fun. To let them think they'd won, and then strike where it hurt most. There were many criminals like me in this place - I've been here quite a few times to know. Well, maybe not totally like me. They weren't as... Advanced. But with a little push, they'd be putty in my hands. I looked back up at the security camera. In fact, maybe it wasn't just the other inmates that I could manipulate... The doctors and nurses came and went so fast in this place, most leaving with some kind of mental disorder. It's not my fault they can't handle me. Many of them end up back here, but not in the way they'd like.  
"Why... Did Mickey-Mouse get shot?" I asked the camera.  
I waited patiently for a response which wasn't going to come. I licked my lips and huffed. I looked boredly to the ceiling.  
"Because Donald Ducked." I finished before cracking up laughing.  
My laughter ricocheted off the walls as I rocked backwards and forwards, the handcuffs cutting into my wrists.  
"You have to admit that was funny though." I said to no-one in particular.  
I cleared my throat. At least I could amuse myself as I felt the fear radiate off them and through the walls like cigarette smoke to a smoker.  
"Ok ok here's a good one: how do you stop a lawyer from drowning?"  
Suddenly, the door opened. I rolled my head lazily over to the door and my eyes widened. In entered two security guards, and a petite little thing with blonde hair scraped back into a bun. A small pair of glasses rested on her lightly freckled nose. She gulped visibly and her hands were shaking. I stared straight into her eyes, feeding off the fear that was so evidently there. This was certainly gonna be... interesting. I licked my lips slowly and leant as far forward as the handcuffs would let me.  
"Well hello gorgeous. I'm very - er - glad to make your - er - acquaintance."

I'd only had a week to prepare, but to be honest, I don't think even a year would be long enough to prepare to face the Joker. Even the name sent shivers down my spine. I can't remember what was going through my head when I volunteered.  
A meeting had been called for all those without any major cases on their hands, and I was definitely one. I only had one case, and it could hardly be called a 'case'. He was involved in a bank robbery that he'd screwed up and had acted insane so he didn't have to face his partners in crime in prison. He may have fooled the judge, but I've always had a knack for telling if people are lying or not. Ever since that time... Anyway, it was obvious he was faking it but I put him as PTSD on his report because I wanted to prove that I could be trusted with a serious(ish) case. It was easy to pull off as the man had been in the military a few years before. I just wished I could've slapped the smug look off his face when he thought he'd fooled me. Because I was young people treated me as if I as naïve and knew nothing about what I had just spent years studying for. My parents didn't support me in this career, they wanted me to go into politics like them and my brother. Luckily, my sister understood as she had followed the path of being a midwife.  
I sidetracked again didn't I? I have a habit of getting distracted. At the meeting, Dr. Roberts (the top doctor/manager at Arkham) gave the proposal. He didn't bother with any speech, all he said was:  
"The Joker is coming to Arkham, and he needs a therapist."  
The silence in the room was deafening. Everyone exchanged worried glances. We'd all heard the horror stories. His last doctor had left with 16 stitches from a broken chair leg a few days before the Joker had escaped... Again. Many people even left the room mumbling a quick 'Thank-you for the oppurtunity' before hurrying out the door. Only 6 of us remained, most of us fairly fresh out of training. I looked around the room at the scared faces, no doubt mirror images of my own. Some of the top therapists from all over the world had tried to get through to him, but all had failed, some even quit their profession. Then someone spoke up.  
"I'll do it." they squeaked.  
Everyone's eyes widened at me. I frowned, before my mouth fell open as I realised it was me that had spoken. Oh my God. There was no going back now. I swallowed hard.  
"I'll take the case." I said louder, hoping I sounded confident.  
Dr Robert looked down his nose at me like I was an insignificant fly that had landed on the table. He sighed.  
"Thank-you for volunteering, Miss... Lestrange." he paused and grimaced. "I guess there is no harm in trying to prove yourself. Your first meeting will be in one week. Thank-you for your time."  
I nodded, feeling sick as I stood up, my knees week. I headed as fast as I could out the door and towards the toilets. What was I thinking? I burst into a cubicle, locked it behind me, and leant over the toilet bowl, retching. I couldn't do this. How could I think I had the potential? I shook my head, flushed the chain, and put a hand to my forehead. I'd been trained for this hadn't I? I took a deep breath. That's when I heard someone crying in the cubicle next to me. I unlocked the door and washed my hands and face in the sink.  
"Hello?" I called.  
The crying stopped and I heard a lock click. The door opened a crack.  
"I'm sorry." a small voice said.  
"Was it a patient?" I asked sympathetically.  
I saw a head of red hair nod from inside the crack.  
"She touched a sensitive subject that's all."  
I smiled comfortingly, hoping I wouldn't end up like her.

And now, here I stood, in a room, with the Joker. I felt as though his eyes could see through me into my soul. I felt so exposed. But the first thing I noticed was his lack of make-up. I thought that without the make-up he wouldn't look so sinister anymore. I thought it was a mask to hide behind, that without it he would lose some of his... craziness. But I could already see this wasnt the case. His dark eyes were intriguing yet terrifying. But this was one of the things I loved about this job - so much potential knowledge inside his complex head. His piercing gaze was filled with curiosity. All personal possessions had been removed, but I wouldn't be surprised if he suddenly drew a knife from up his sleeve. He had that kind of feral, unpredictable look about him, even without his trademark suit or makeup. He still had black stains around his eyes as if he was wearing messily applied eyeliner. As my eyes travelled warily down his face, they lingered on the scars. Red paint clung to the lumpy ridges in them. Despite the horrific stories held behind them, something in the back of my head told me that actually they weren't that bad. In fact, they even made him more intriguing. I watched as he ran his tongue over them and fought the urge the cringe. How must that feel? Bearing those scars? It took me a while to realise that he as looking at me expectantly, as if waiting for an answer.  
"I-I'm sorry what?" I stammered.  
Smooth, real smooth.  
The Joker giggled and bounced around in his seat like a child. His high pitched laughter sent shivers down my spine. It reminded of his morbid 'home videos' on the news. He managed to regain his composure (if he ever had any).  
"I was simply saying hello, gorgeous." he repeated, his voice grating against my ears as he rolled his 'r's to make a point.  
Despite the situation, I felt a blush creep up my cheeks. Back to business. I sat down at the chair and subconsciously inhaled his scent: a mixture of gasoline and... something I couldn't quite place.  
"Good morning. Lets start with formalities," I said, trying to sound mature and keep my voice level. "My name is Dr Lestrange. And you are?"


	2. Questions

**I've decided to write chapter two for my own amusement otherwise my head will explode :D **

**I do not own the Joker or Batman or anything else apart from my OC and the ideas. (still secretly Queen of Gotham :P)**

Chapter 2

"My name is Dr Lestrange. And you are?"  
There was a silence as the Joker stared at me. Then a sinister smile spread across his face, stretching from ear to ear. His insane cackling filled the silence and I tried not to show any emotion as a cold sweat broke out on the back of my neck. A security guard shifted uneasily behind me. Normally I would be comforted by his presence, but I feared that if anyone tried to stop the Joker doing what he wanted - whether it was murder, or simply going to the canteen for a coffee - then no-one could stop him. No matter how beefy my 'bodyguards' were. And in this case, they were pretty buff. The Joker finally calmed down from his hysterical laughter, giggles occasionally escaping.  
"Well Miss - er - Lestrange." he smirked, pausing before leaning in and whispering. "My name is Joe."  
I raised an eyebrow, not sure whether he was joking or not.  
"Well then... Joe, do you-"  
"How d'you drown a blonde, gorgeous?" he asked, interrupting.  
My mouth open and closed like a fish, not knowing how to react. Should I play along? Should I stay professional? The Joker looked up at one of the guards and spread his hands and shook his head as if disappointed.  
"Don't know the answer, Blondie?" he cooed. "Cat got you're tongue?"  
I stayed frozen, my lips pressed together. He looked back at me, his eyes amused. Suddenly, something in his demeanour switched. There was a dark look in his eyes and he hunched over slightly. His humour had changed too. No longer harmless, but like a tiger playing with its prey.  
"Answer the question!" he barked at me.  
I gasped and the security guards took a step forward.  
"I-I don't know th-the answer. How do you - um - drown a blonde?" I stammered.  
The Joker leant back, relaxed again, the humour back in his eyes. He finds my fear funny. I made a mental note to control my fleeing instincts.  
"Glue a mirror to the bottom of a pool." he answered, giggling to himself.  
I fought the urge not to laugh along with him. He was so... strange. I had yet to know him as a freak or insane. Terrifying yes, but not a freak. Just strange. Right now he just seemed like a child. A child with violent moods swings. I wrote down 'ADHD?' on my clipboard.  
"What are you - er - scribbling down there, Blondie?" the Joker asked, licking his lips as he tried to read upside-down.  
I pulled the clipboard close to my chest.  
"Nothing that concerns you." I told him warily; I didn't want another mood swing heading my way.  
Luckily, he simply shrugged and waited for me to talk. I sat up in my chair and put the clipboard face down on the table - I could fill that in later. I took a deep breath.  
"Anyway, a question for a question. I'm sure you know already, but it's what we've been taught to do." I slowed down - I was rambling but I wanted to be taken seriously. "Do you know why you're here?"  
The Joker chewed on his scars thoughtfully.  
"Who told you to ask that? The di-rectorrr?" he asked, elongating and emphasizing his words.  
I wasn't sure I'd ever get used to his... Unique speech pattern. I sighed.  
"Why do you keep answering questions with questions?"  
"Why do you keep answering questions with questions?" he smiled.  
I groaned.  
"Will you stop being so childish?" I snapped.  
He raised his eyebrows at my outburst before falling back into his psychotic shrieking. I smirked and rolled my eyes. His laughter was contagious, but that didn't stop it from being a bit of a conversation block.  
"Do you ever stop laughing? You're being kind of rude you know."  
This only seemed to make him laugh even harder, gasping for breath and almost crying with mirth. I huffed.  
"Really? Is it impossible to have a civilised conversation with you?" I asked, getting agitated.  
He pressed his lips together and sat up, mocking my position and expression. I laughed lightly and clasped my hands on the table. The Joker frowned, pulling at the handcuffs behind his back. For a moment I felt sorry for him as I saw droplets of blood running down his wrists. I shook my head. How did he keep diverting from the subject so easily? I'd been warned that he was manipulative, but no-one had told me how God-damn frustrating he was!  
"Are you done?" I inquired.  
The Joker sighed.  
"You know you just asked me seven questions then, which one do you want answered?"  
Again, more questions with questions! He sensed my annoyance and smirked cockily. This as probably just all a game to him. Fine then, I'd play along.  
"All of them."  
The Joker thought for a bit.  
"Yes I do; apparently I'm insane. A lot of the time. I'm not a child, everyone just needs to wake up. I only laugh when things are funny. Yes, really. I am perfectly civilised. And yes, I am done." he answered.  
I gritted my teeth. I'd forgotten what half the questions were, so I focused on the ones I could remember.  
"So, if you know why you're here, do you regret what you've done?" I asked.  
"Why should I regret anything?" he replied, licking his lips. "I've done nothing wrong, I just do things. It's the Batman that letting all these people die."  
I fiddled with the pen in my hands. So... He had no morals. No rules. No code of conduct. He didn't do things to be good or bad, he just did things. I furrowed my brow, trying to make sense of his mind.  
"But why?" I mused, not realising I'd said it out loud.  
"To send a message." he explained nonchalantly.  
I chewed my lip in thought.  
"What message?" I countered.  
The Joker sighed and shifted in his seat. I could see that if he could've done, he'd have spread his hands on the table.  
"Ok, Blondie, here's the idea. Everyone in Gotham, thinks they're safe because of the Batman. So-"  
"Thought." I corrected. "They thought they were safe."  
He glared at me.  
"Sorry. Carry on." I mumbled.  
"So..." he continued. "I decided to introduce a little chaos, a little anarchy, drag the Batman down from grace, and then everyone realises their vulnerabilities. Everyone realises, they're not invincible."  
I nodded and he relaxed visibly. My mind was whirring as I processed this precious piece of information. So that was it? No vengeful grudge against the Batman. No political views.  
"So... You just do things because you like chaos?" I concluded.  
The Joker shrugged.  
"And I get bored." he added.  
He was a genius. No matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise, he was right. The ways he went about it was wrong, I think, but I could see now that everything he did, it was just chaos. Just random acts of boredom to break up society. And it worked. He was right - we needed things to remind us of our mortality. We needed sprinkles of anarchy and a few slices of anger or chaos. The Joker was free to do what he wanted with just a few supplies and some henchman at his heels. _Free._  
"Understandable." I nodded.  
A huge smile spread across his face.

She understood. The little blonde pixie understood. I could see it in her eyes, the way they lit up at what I was saying. I started humming a song randomly. All its takes is a little push. But she'd already been pushed once, I could see that. She'd dabbled in the devil's water before, but only briefly. Only her morals were holding her back, and amidst chaos, everyone abandoned their morals.  
"The only way to live in life is without rules." I told her.  
She nodded as if in a trance before snapping back to reality.  
"No!" she yelled a bit too forcefully to no-one in particular before regaining her composure but looking down at the table. "I'm sorry but rules i-is what keeps society together and if you-" she paused. "If you don't understand that then you will never be a part of it."  
"I already am a part of it, don't you see?" I laughed. "I am the fear. I will always be a part of it, whether they like it or not. The Batman needs me. Gotham needs me."  
Blondie gathered up her clipboard and stood up.  
"This session is done now, Joe." she stated coldly, spitting out my 'name' like venom, before walking out, the security guards following her.  
"See ya soon, Blondie!" I called after her before collapsing into giggles again.  
I'd got my hooks in deep. She was scared of what I was doing to her. But she didn't understand. I licked my lips. I'd planted the seed in her head, and now I just had to wait for it to grow. There was something about her, I'd seen it flicker across her face, something dark. Despite her timidness and her seemingly naive nature, there was something different there. A tormented past? An abusive relationship? A bad experience?. Whatever it was, I was determined to find out. Maybe I could use it to my advantage. I stuck my tongue out at the security camera. The game was on. 


	3. Skittles

Here is Chapter 3! Yay! It's kind of a filler chapter, and I got kind of bored writing it, but I hope you enjoy it anyway

I do not own the Joker or Batman or anything else apart from my OC and the ideas. (Harlequin in the making :P)

Chapter 3

I took a long drink of coffee to calm my nerves. The cup in my hands shook as I gripped it tightly, my knuckles white. I shivered and closed my eyes. Why was he having this effect on me? I laughed mirthlessly to myself. After all these years, I should've known the past would come back to bite me. The Joker had lit a flame that I thought had been permanently extinguished. We'd only had one session! _One _session and he was already driving me mad. I sighed and buried my face in my hands. I really needed to try and hide my emotions better; he could read me like a book – which was strange considering I was often told I was 'hard to read'. I banged my head on the table. I tried to let the pandemonium of the Arkham cafeteria drown out my thoughts. It didn't work. Although it was probably too soon to say so, I was pretty sure I hated him. Maybe not him as a person – not that I was very keen on his personality – but I hated the way he made me feel exposed, on display, unmasked. I felt as if he could read all of my secrets in one glance. His eyes were fascinating, but they put me on edge, made me feel agitated. Not that I had anything to hide… Not anymore. Did I?

Before I could delve deeper into my troubling thoughts, a shadow fell on the table in front of me. I looked behind me slowly to see the red-head from the toilets stood awkwardly by the table, an orange juice and packet of skittles in her hands.

"Um… Is this seat free?" she asked politely.

I shrugged.

"Er- Yeah sure, go ahead." I smiled and she smiled back, sitting down opposite me.

There was an awkward silence before I spoke up.

"So um… Are you doing well with your patient now then?" I asked, taking a sip of my coffee.

She looked confused for a moment before exclaiming: "Oh! You were in the toilets weren't you?"

I nodded, she blushed.

"I'm sorry for not remembering you, I was in a bit of a state at the time." She apologised. "But yeah things are better now, I got over it and I'm kinda getting through to her."

_Good for you_ I thought.

"I don't blame you though; it doesn't take long before you start to go a bit loopy in here." I assured her.

She laughed and offered me a skittle (which I declined; I didn't like the colour green anymore).

"To be honest I think I was a bit loopy before I got here." She giggled.

I smirked and then gasped.

"Oh no! I'm sorry I forgot to introduce myself, my names Tracy Lestrange."

"Eliza Devon." She said smiling. "I'm sorry, it's just- Lestrange? It's just a bit ironic. Not meaning to be rude or anything…" she stammered, trying to recover herself.

I shook my head.

"No its fine; I get that a lot."

She giggled again and looked at the floor. She looked about the same age as me, maybe a year older. I liked the way she didn't talk to me as if I was young and stupid, she talked to me like- like an equal.

"Have you been here long?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"I came out of training a few months ago. You?"

"I've been here about a year." I sighed.

"I guess you're quite experienced then?" she questioned.

I shrugged.

"I've only had one case, and I just started a new one, are you far into yours?" I asked, trying not to linger on my newest case.

She chewed on the inside of her mouth in thought. My mind switched to a certain clown who was probably sat in his padded cell doing the same. I shoved those thoughts out of my head.

"About a month or so" She answered. "And I don't usually have breakdowns like that. It's just that the person I'm treating is a pyromaniac who burnt down a school, and she started going on about how the children screamed and stuff." She paused. "I looked into her history and she had abusive father who used to lock her up in the dark with only a matchbox for light so I guess she uses it as a form of comfort."

I nodded understandingly. If only my case was that simple. _You volunteered!_ A voice shouted in the back of my head. And yes its true, I wouldn't give up this case for anything, but that's what scared me. He was so fascinating that I feared that whatever effect he had on me, I'd never be able to walk away from him. I'd always been competitive, and this was just another challenge.

I snapped back to reality when I realised Eliza had asked me something.

"Tracy?" she asked.

"Oh sorry, I was away with the fairies." I explained, embarrassed.

She waved a hand absentmindedly.

"Its fine, I was just asking what your cases are, or were, or whatever."

I looked at the table.

"Well my first one was pretty boring." I told her. "He was involved in a bank robbery and pleaded insane to get out of jail."

"What a waste of time," She sighed sympathetically. "What did you do?"

"I put him down as PTSD and handed him over." I said.

She smirked.

"Nice one. Why didn't you just send the idiot to prison?"

"Because I didn't want my first ever case to be invalid." I said, smiling. "I hope I'm not being a bad influence."

"No, no, of course not." She ensured. "Actually, you're the only friend I've got here."

I grinned.

"Yeah, I guess when you're new everyone just treats you like-"

"You're an alien because you're ginger?" she interrupted.

I burst out laughing, gasping for air. She started giggling along with me and we started getting a few disapproving looks from around the cafeteria.

"Actually, I was going to say stupid because you're-"

"Blonde?" Eliza interrupted again, dragging us both into another laughing fit.

"Young, I was gonna say young." I wheezed.

We recovered our composure and I downed the rest of my coffee.

"We obviously just proved that we are the most mature people in this room." I said sarcastically.

I looked at the clock and stood up.

"I'm gonna go home now, today has kind of worn me out."

A flicker of disappointment flashed across her face but she quickly covered it with a smile.

"Ok cool, I understand. I'll probably head home too." She said, but sounded uncertain.

"I'll see you around, Eliza." I smiled and waved slightly before heading out of the cafeteria towards the car park.

I felt bad leaving her; she was the only person I could actually call a friend or acquaintance in this loony bin. But I'd do anything I could to avoid talking about the Joker to anyone. There was a saying: a problem shared is a problem halved, but I didn't want this 'problem' halved. I wanted the challenge, the experience. I'd probably never get a case as interesting as this in my entire time working at Arkham.

I took my keys out my pocket and unlocked the car, sliding into the driver's seat. I exhaled deeply and flexed my fingers on the steering wheel. I put the keys in the ignition but just as I was about to put my bag on the passenger seat, I noticed something already there. A card. I picked it up slowly and turned it around in my fingers, facing my growing fears. I gasped and dropped the card back onto the seat. On it was a picture of a Joker, its smiling face staring up at me. Written in red ink next to the face it said "BFFs don't keep secrets – J"

I frowned, my heartbeat racing. The blood drained from my face. I looked in the back of the car and checked for any smashed windows. Nothing. I felt in the pocket of my coat for my red pen I'd been using. It was gone. How the hell did he get out of his cell? Let alone get into my car! I groaned and slumped back in the seat. He was always one step ahead, and probably always would be.


	4. Gorgeous

**Here is Chapter 4! I'm sorry that its really short but I posted twice today and I apologise for any errors because its 11:57 :)**

**I do not own the Joker or Batman or anything else apart from my OC and the ideas. (Agent of Chaos)**

Chapter 4

The street was dark and the air was crisp and cold. I pulled my coat tightly around my shoulders and watched my breath like smoke in the night. The neighbourhood was deserted but I had the chilling feeling that I was being followed. I shrugged it off and carried on walking, my boot heels clicking on the wet tarmac. I turned a corner and saw a group of drunks stumbling out of the pub and along the road. I was about to turn hastily in the other direction when I saw Danny among the group. I smirked and shook my head. He claimed to be able to hold his drink, but I always knew better. I strode up to them, smiling to myself. Danny saw me and turned around, almost slipping in the road.

"Hey gorgeous!" he called.

I blushed and walked closer. Danny pull me into a hug and waved a bottle in front of my face.

"Want a drink, gorgeous?" he slurred, his breath stinking of alcohol.

I forced a laugh.

"Please stop." I whispered to him, trying to pull away.

He only pulled me closer to him, the buttons on his jacket digging into my skin.

"Aw… Just one more drink, gorgeous!" he complained.

I struggled against his grip but he only seemed to squeeze me tighter.

"Get off, Danny! You're hurting me." I hissed.

He planted a sloppy kiss on my cheek and I slapped his chest. He staggered backwards and laughed, his friends jeering.

"Don't spoil the fun! I ain't hurtin' ya, I love you, Trace. I really do." He said, the alcohol making him passionate, a look of adoration in his eyes. "Don't push me away, gorgeous, I wanna marry you!"

He half fell and half knelt down in front of my and grabbed my hand in a vice like grip.

"Will you marry me, Trace?" he asked, but his speech was so distorted I could hardly understand him.

His friends let out a big "Aww!" and started singing drunkenly.

I half smiled at their stupidity.

"Danny, you're drunk. Get up and we'll go home." I muttered to him, trying to pull him up from the floor.

The look of adoration in his eyes turned to betrayal, then to anger. He slowly hauled himself to his feet and stumbled towards me.

"I'm not drunk I want to marry you!" he wailed.

Then his friends turned on me and starting advancing towards me, yelling: "Yeah why won't you marry Danny?" "Don't you love him?" "You're just harsh." "You've broken his heart!"

I stepped backwards, laughing nervously.

"Look guys, I don't think you're in the right state of mind, I'm just gonna take Danny home…" I trailed off as their shouting got louder.

Danny glared at me and shoved me into a wall, hitting my head hard. I yelped in pain as he lifted me up my the front of my shirt.

"You hear that? You've broken my heart, gyal!" he spat.

Danny smashed his bottle against the wall by my head.

"You see that? That's my heart you smashed!" he roared.

A shard of glass scraped my forehead. I bit my lip and a tear rolled down my cheek.

"Just leave me alone, Dan." I sobbed.

He laughed without humour.

"I can't leave you, gorgeous, I love you!" he barked the last bit and I turned my head as his saliva flew at me.

"Help!" I cried out desperately, knowing no-one would hear me.

Danny slammed a dirty hand over my mouth.

"You don't trust me?!" he yelled, waving the broken bottle around. "You think I'd hurt you!?"

I plunged my knee into his gut and tried to make a run for it. He grunted but slammed his foot down on my ankle. I screamed in agony as I felt the bone crunch. He pulled his foot back and I gasped, panting. I turned over and tried to drag myself away, but he brought his foot down again. The bone tore through my skin and I let out another blood-curdling scream. The excruciating pain burned up my leg. One of his friends pinned my arm down as Danny plunged a shard of glass into my elbow.

I jolted awake, screaming in fear as I relived that dreaded scene once again. Tears soaked my pillow and my body was coated in a cold sweat. I sighed and lay back down, running a hand through my hair. I hadnt had that dream in years. I stared at the card on my bedside table. I sat up with quickly as I recalled the events of the past day. Then the anger overwhelmed me again. I was his psychiatrist, not the other way around. I realised how stupid I was yesterday; I let him turn the meeting around so easy. I sighed. He probably gained more from our talk than I had. I couldnt even get his real name! I growled in frustration.

"Stop messing with my head!" I yelled at the ceiling.

Suddenly, my alarm clock went off. I yelped and almost fell out of my bed and threw the card at it. Obviously it kept on wailing so I slammed my fist on it and the display went blank. I smiled at my handiwork. I could fix it later.

I swung myself out of bed, yawned and grabbed a towel before having a shower. I let the cold water run over me in an attempt to wash away what happened yesterday. What doesnt kill you makes you stronger. By the end of our meeting today, the Joker would fear me. I got out the shower letting the warmer air of my apartment sooth my skin (badasses have cold showers). I dried off and got dressed into my uniform, noting the absence of my red pen. Instead I put the card in my pocket, grabbed my bag and walked out the door, making sure I locked it behind me. Despite some people being able to magically pick car locks from inside a padded cell, you had to take precautions when you lived in Gotham.

I paid to park in the visitors car park in case Mr J got some ideas. I locked it twice (not that it would . make any difference whatsoever) and went inside. I signed in and went straight to Mr Roberts' office. I knocked on the door and waited.

"Come in!" he called.

I opened the door and walked in trying to look confident.

"Good morning Dr Lestrange." he greeted. "I was hoping I'd see you today. You see... You're being reassigned."


	5. Freckles

Chapter 5

My mouth hung open in shock. This could not be happening. It was one session. _One_ session. I couldn't have been that bad, could I? ... Could I? I mean of course I was nervous, but at least I got him talking.

"B-but you have-" I stammered. "Please just one more chance." I paused. "Actually I hardly had a chance at all!"

The Doctor raised an eyebrow.

"We seemed to get the impression that your first session seemed rather... Uncomfortable." He mused.

I opened my mouth to explain but he cut me off.

"Besides, we had a meeting this morning to decide it. A German psychiatrist is already on his way here."

My brain was in overdrive. Forgive me for being childish, but this was so unfair!

"But sir," I pleaded. "This case, I-I I need it! I really think I could get through to the Joker if I had more time."

Dr Roberts scoffed and I glared at him.

"What?" I snapped a bit too harshly.

"I'm sorry, but we don't have time." He smiled apologetically. "And you are, if you don't mind me saying, fairly inexperienced."

I laughed once without humour.

"Well I can understand that, I guess, but doesn't that give me a more open mind? A different view on things." I suggested but he shook his head.

"I truly am sorry, maybe you need some time to recover. Dealing with someone like the Joker can be very exhausting. Maybe you should take a break."

"No you don't understand!" I begged. "I'm not exhausted, I want this case! We had one session and you're already replacing me." I exhaled slowly through gritted teeth, trying to regain my composure. "I just don't understand what I did wrong."

The Doctor sighed and moved onto his next stack of paperwork.

"You did nothing wrong my dear, apart from maybe a lack of notes," I looked at the floor as he lectured me. I felt like a school kid being punished. "I just think we may have pushed you too far. We could always-"

"I don't want to hear the speech." I cut him off and turned to leave.

"But Miss Lestrange, we haven't discussed your new case."

"_This_ was my case. And I think I might take my break now." I said before walking out.

Then suddenly a thought occured to me. I opened the office door slightly and poked my head inside.

"Oh by the way, I have something I need to give back to him. To the Joker I mean."

The Doctor looked up and frowned. I took the card out of my pocket and waved it around so he couldn't read what it said. He chuckled and waved a hand.

"If you must, a guard will take you."

I smiled and waved before disappearing out the door. I walked down the white corridors, passing people with white lab coats and clipboards identical to mine. I waved to Eliza as I saw her approaching.

"Coffee later?" I asked.

"Coffee and skittles." She nodded and I laughed.

I continued on until I found the area of the hospital where the patients were held. Next to the entrance was one of the security guard lounges.

I knocked on the door and one of the guards accompanying me with the Joker came to answer it and all the other men jeered. He shut them up and opened the door.

"Can I help?" He asked.

I smiled and blushed. His nametag read Brody Lancer.

"Um... I'm sorry, I just needed to talk to the Joker and I got told to take an escort. I mean you don't have to because it's your break and everything but um..."

His muscles were seriously distracting. He wasn't too muscly either... Just right. I snapped out of it and looked up at him.

He smirked and nodded.

"Yeah sure, anything for a lovely lady." He replied.

I tried to fight the blush that burnt up my neck, but it probably didn't work. He swiped his card and the door opened before he lead the way. We walked in silence down the first corridor and then Brody spoke up.

"So, do you 'visit' the Joker often?" He asked.

"Oh no, only once. He's not someone that would get many visitors." I sighed. "I'm just saying bye really."

Brody frowned.

"Why are you saying bye? I thought you were his psychiatrist."

"I was." I explained. "But I got replaced. Apparently I didn't have enough experience."

Brody tutted sympathetically.

"Bastards." He mumbled and I giggled.

What was I, a schoolgirl?

"He freaks you out doesn't he?" He inquired.

"I think you'd probably get used to him after a while though." I said, trying to believe my own words.

Brody shivered. "I don't think I could ever get used to those scars."

"I just feel sorry for him." I admitted. "And he doesn't look too ugly with the scars."

I hated myself for thinking it, but there was something strangely alluring about him. If he wasn't a terrifying mass murderer, he could maybe (probably. definitely.) pass for attractive. I shook my head. My mind was oversimplifying things. Then I noticed Brody looking at me weirdly and I looked sheepishly to the floor.

"Mental war?" He asked and I nodded.

We arrived at the cell and he pulled out a set of keys. I raised an eyebrow.

"Isn't that a bit, old fashioned?"

He flashed me a smile.

"There's nothing wrong with a good old fashioned key."

After unlocking one door with a key and one with a pass, he entered the cell. I took a deep breath and followed him in. The Joker was pacing by the wall at the back of the cell. His handcuffs were now chained chained to a link in the wall. He stopped pacing and looked up, the sinister smile returning back to his face. No matter how prepared I was, I couldn't deny he wasn't scary. Brody was obviously thinking the same. I leant up whispered in his ear:

"Why don't you wait outside?"

He looked at me like I was mad. I nodded, trying to look confident. The Joker raised an eyebrow looking amused. I nudged Brody towards the door and he watched me warily as he locked the doors behind him. Me and the Joker stared at each other for a few moments. He sat down on the bed and licked his lips.

"So then, freckles, why d'you wanna be - er - alone?" He leered and I opened my mouth to reply but he cut me off."I mean obviously I know how - er - irresistible I am but this isn't the time. We could get a drink..."

I checked the recording equipment was off and threw the card down on the table.

"And I want my pen back."

The Joker smirked before breaking into a wide grin.

"Don't laugh." I warned him and he pressed his lips together, shaking with contained giggles.

I sighed and sat down.

"How did you do it?" I asked.

He tapped his nose and winked.

"Freckles, a magician never gives away his secrets."

I huffed and rested my head in my hands. He copied me. That's when I noticed he was no longer in handcuffs.

**I apologise for yet again another short(ish) chapter with not much significance. I will try and write later, I might even post, but I'll see :p**


	6. Tricks

Chapter 6

I shrieked and stumbled out off my chair, pressing my back against the wall closest to the door. The Joker chuckled menacingly an advanced towards me

"So... You think you're all - er - confident, doll?" He licked his lips and smirked. "Do I scare you, freckles?"

I looked at the wall above him, not wanting to face the truth in his eyes.

"You wouldn't hurt me." I challenged, hoping I was right.

He cocked his head to the side and frowned, but the humour remained. For him anyway.

"Hm... Wouldn't hurt you... Let me think about that..." He stroked his pretend beard.

Suddenly, he lunged towards me. I squeezed my eyes closed and bit my lip so I didn't scream. Nothing happened. I opened my eyes and squealed as I saw his scarred face inches from mine. His distorted lips twisted into a grin. I could feel his warm breath against my cheek. As I looked up at him, I realised how tall he was, definitely over 6 foot. I stared at the wall behind him as his mysterious eyes scanned my face. He held something in his hand and waved it around in front of me: my red pen.

"You know, you should really take more care over your possessions, freckles." he chided.

"But you were in handcuffs..." I tried desperately to make sense of it.

The Joker chuckled and uncapped the pen, twirling it in his long fingers.

"Don't sound so confused, it was easy really. Just a little trick." he explained. "Its all just a game really."

"But how did you get in my car?." I asked.

He laughed loudly in my face and put a finger to my lips.

"A secret for a secret." he smirked.

I tried to cover my gasp, but he didn't miss anything.

"Oh come on, freckles. Surely you didn't think you could hide anything from your - er - BFF?"

"I don't have anything to hide."

His eyes went dark but the malevolent grin remained.

"No secrets, huh?" he questioned, his voice deep and threatening. "Are you lying to me, doll?"

I stayed very still, hoping I could just melt into the wall under his ominous glare.

"Are you lying to me?!" he snapped.

I whimpered and shook my head.

He sighed and grasped my face roughly in his hand, pressing the nib of the pen to the side of my mouth. I closed my eyes tight again.

"Look. At. Me." he growled and I opened them again slowly. "Lost for words? That makes a change doesn't it?"

I said nothing.

"Are you scared, doll?" he asked with mock concern in his voice. "Why so serious?"

He dug the pen into my skin and drew a ragged red grin in ink on both sides of my mouth. He smiled at his handiwork and took a step backwards.

"Something to remember me by, considering you're leaving me, today." he capped the pen and put it on the table. "Parting is such sweet sorrow don't you think, freckles?"

My mouth fell open.

"How did you know?" I asked, bewildered.

He waved a hand and chuckled.

"I didn't know, I found out."

I shook my head.

"How do you-" I huffed. "Never mind."

He straightened up and leant against the table. His change in personality unnerved me, it was like trying to predict the weather. I never knew how to act around him. Just another part of the challenge.

"Lost for words, freckles?" he asked, a cocky smirk on his face.

I glared at him and held my hand out.

"I want my pen back." I demanded, sounding like a school teacher.

The Joker pouted and stuck his tongue out, clutching it close to his chest.

"No its mine. It can be my leaving present." he teased before pretending to look hurt. "I never got many presents over the years. I wonder why, freckles?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Because you're cruel and heartless?" I suggested.

He laughed and shrugged.

"Maybe, freckles, maybe."

He stalked around the table and picked up the card. He held it up to the light and studied it. He twirled it in his fingers, as if fascinated. I watched the look of contentment and joy on his face, as if he were greeting an old friend. It made a nice change from his normal psychopathic look. It made him seem more, not harmless but... less murderous. The Joker looked back at me, catching my eye. I looked down and he smirked, flicking the card towards my head. It bounced of my nose and fell down my shirt. I gasped and glared at him. He burst into manic laughter, clutching his sides. I blushed and looked at the floor. There was no way I was trying to get it now; he'd probably find some way to make a dirty joke out of it. His laughter deteriorated into sniggers.

"Real mature." I sighed.

Thankfully, he changed the subject and turned to the back wall.

"You know, I never got the chance to show you a card trick." he contemplated. "I love card games..."

In that moment I actually felt bad for him. Then the anger welled up inside me again. Its not my fault I wasn't gonna see him anymore! I mean, not that I wanted to see him particularly, in fact I'd rather not, but I wanted to solve this case. I wanted to solve the complex puzzle inside his mind. Something in that back of my head told me that the two were so interlinked that I couldn't want one and not the other, but I ignored it. I couldn't see his face so I didn't know what he was thinking. (Not that I would've even if he was looking at me, but I could've judged his mood a bit better.) His angular shoulders and height made him look even more intimidating in the darkness.

"I'm sorry but its not my fault that I have to leave, its not like-" I started.

"Don't apologise. I really hate apologies." he turned slightly, an unsettling grin. "We'll be seeing each other soon again anyways, freckles."

He winked and tipped his invisible hat before turning back into the dark. What could I say in return? Thanks, but I'd prefer not to be stalked? I waved awkwardly at his back instead and took a deep breath, before knocking the 'secret' knock on the door. I couldn't hear if he was opening it or not through the sound-proof walls, but then the doors swung open and a pale looking Brody stood warily in front of it. I hurried quickly through the door and let him close it behind me.

"Are you ok?" he asked and I sighed.

"I'm alive." I smiled. "Which is quite lucky."

He started down the corridor and I followed.

"I don't know how you do that." he smiled admiringly down at me. "I can't stand being in the same room as him, let alone talk to him."

I shrugged.

"I've had training." then I frowned. "Not that I'll need to use much of it anymore. I'm taking a break considering they've thrown me off the Joker case."

Brody perked up.

"So you're free tomorrow?" he asked.

I was taken aback by the question, before blushing.

"Well... Um, yeah sure I guess. Why?" I asked, pleased that I'd managed to get through the whole sentence without collapsing.

Brody smiled warmly.

"Do you want to er... Go to the café or something?" he asked.

I nodded as we exited the Patient's Section.

"Yeah sure, but I have to go and have coffee with a friend right now." I explained awkwardly.

He nodded understandingly. "Oh yeah sure its absolutely fine, I'll just see you at Blue's at 12 tomorrow? Its my lunch break that's all."

I smiled. "Yeah ok, 12 it is."

**Another slightly insignificant chapter, sorry :( I'm making this up as I go along so please bear with me :P Thank-you for all the reviews! They are my writing fuel!**


	7. Pop Tarts

Heres the next chapter, and I noticed I forgot to do the copyright on the last chapter so although it pains me to say it, anything related to Batman doesnt belong to me (even though I share the same surname as the creator of Batman :p ) apart from my OCs. And dont worry; the Joker still having too much fun to escape yet.

Chapter 7

I waited in the staff car park for Eliza as I repeatedly checked my car seats for unwanted items. Or people. Just in case. I shook my head. I wasn't on the case anymore, I didn't have to worry about it. But his last words to me played over and over in my mind. What did he mean by that? I knew he could escape easily, was he going to try now. Then I saw her, hidden under a pile of paperwork stumbling towards me. I laughed and she poked her head around the paper mountain and gasped when she saw me, dropping everything she was holding, bits of stray paper and post-it-notes floating around the parking lot.

"God dammit!" she yelled, chasing after some of them.

I snorted with laughter and helped her gather some of the runaway papers. One heart shaped post-it note stuck to a car and a sheet flew into an air vent, but after at least 2 minutes and with the help of a few other doctors, we managed to get most of the pile back. We got in the car and I was about to turn the key in the ignition when Eliza stopped me.

"Er... Tracy. You have something on your face." she said, supressing laughter.

I frowned before my mouth fell open. I swear I could kill the Joker.

"Oh my god!" I shouted and grabbed a wipe from my bag, trying to scrub the pen off my face.

Eliza couldn't help but burst into giggles and I glared at her. She pressed her lips together but carried on smiling and I couldn't help but smile with her. But then I felt angry. Why didn't Brody tell me? Was he too much of a gentleman or did he find it funny? I hoped it was the former and I started the car. Eliza cleared her throat but couldn't help let a few giggles escape.

"So... Who did that to you, the Joker?" she asked sarcastically.

I didn't pick up on the sarcasm; I was concentrating on the road.

"Oh yeah." I nodded. "He has quite a sense of humour."

She raised an eyebrow.

"You've met him?" she inquired, sounding confused.

I nodded slowly, equally perplexed.

"Er- Yeah. He was my patient."

_Back in Arkham..._

I burst into laughter as soon as Blondie left. She pretended to know me, to understand, but this was just as much as a game to her as it was to me. Only I was an expert. I'd been playing it for years and was already miles ahead of her. She was so... easy. Normally I'd get bored with someone like her, but she was more complicated than she seemed.

I frowned. But they'd spoilt my fun. All the 'important' people. I snarled and gripped the pen tightly in my hand, hearing it crunch. I smiled at the sound. I needed something to break. To smash. To burn. I sighed and dropped the pen, kicking it under the bed. That wasn't the last time she'd seen me, that was for sure. I was part of her life now anyway; she wouldn't be able to take her mind off her 'case' now that she'd lost it. She would keep thinking about what she should've said, what she did wrong, etc. That security guard was an annoying distraction, but I could bend that to my advantage.

I looked over at the camera in the corner. Blondie didn't seem like an earlyish person, it wouldn't take her long to get ready; she didn't wear make-up and her hair was tied sloppily in a ponytail. Meetings were only allowed after 8:00 and in-cell cameras turned on at 9:30 so I guessed it was about 9:00 I sighed; breakfast should be here soon. Time to introduce a little chaos.

_Stuck in traffic somewhere in Gotham..._

"What?!"

Eliza half yelled in shock. It was lucky we weren't moving because I jumped at her outburst and probably would've crashed the car. Then I gasped and clasped a hand over my mouth.

"I'm so sorry I didn't tell you!" I exclaimed. "I thought I did but I was so worried about trying to take my mind of it that-"

"No, no. It's fine. I see why you didn't." She sympathized. "It's just... Wow."

I laughed lightly and the traffic gave way. I parked on the corner and headed into Blue 's cafe.

"So do you normally take the bus?" I asked out of curiosity.

Eliza nodded and took a seat by the window. I sat down opposite her.

"You're brave having a car, I'm too scared of car thieves." She explained.

"Isn't public transport more dangerous?" I questioned.

She shrugged again.

"There are witnesses on a bus."

I smirked.

"Black coffee?" I asked and she nodded before pulling a packet of skittles out of her bag and singing Hallelujah.

I rolled my eyes as she shoveled a handful of them into her mouth. There was no queue which was unusual (Blue's cafe was the only place in Gotham for people that weren't rich or gangsters and was one of the only small businesses that hadn't been vandalised). I asked for our coffee and a pop tart before paying and taking the tray back to our table. I sat down and immediately took a long gulp of my coffee - which was stupid because I burnt my mouth but bitter taste already made me feel more awake.

"Coffee is life." Stated Eliza. "That should be Arkham's motto."

"Does Arkham even have a motto?"

"I dunno," she shrugged. "Its probably something like: _Lorem_ _pandemonium."_

"You speak Latin?" I asked.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Why do you? Was that Latin? I just know that it means 'welcome to pandemonium'."

"I had the opportunity to learn it but I never really liked taking advantage of what my parents offered." I sighed.

"I can imagine," she empathized. "Luckily my Dad supported whatever I wanted to do. I wanted to be an astronaut at one point so he spent his whole years saving on a telescope for me."

Joy flickered in her eyes when she spoke about her father, followed by pain. I figured he was quite close the her.

"He sounds like a great guy."

She nodded sadly so I changed the subject.

"Forget about patients escaping, if the coffee machines break down then Arkham is screwed." I joked and she laughed.

"Its ok, I still have skittles." She mumbled through her next mouthful.

"What is your obsession with them?" I asked.

"What is your obsession with pop tarts?" She retorted.

My mouth fell open in mock horror.

"Its not an obsession," I explained. "Its natural for all humans to worship pop tarts."

She spread her hands in triumph.

"Its the same with skittles."

I rolled my eyes and laughed.

"So how did you wind up with the Joker?" She asked, lowering her voice.

"Well I didn't exactly volunteer, but..." I explained the story, leaving out details about the meetings as we were told never to repeat what the patients say outside their cell otherwise we'd be disrespecting their privacy. Not that the Joker seemed to know the meaning of the word.

Eliza listened intently as I recalled the events of the past two days.

"... So I gave the card back, he drew on my face for fun, and I left."

"Just like that?" She questioned and I nodded. "Why did you go back?"

I'd been dreading the question; I didn't even know the answer myself.

"Because I guess I felt bad leaving him so abruptly." I frowned, trying to make sense of it.

"Fair enough," she shrugged. "I guess even with psychopaths like him common courtesy still applies."

"He's not insane." I corrected her bluntly.

"What?"

"I said he's not insane." I repeated. "He just has different ideas."

Eliza stared at me, obviously confused.

"So... Why is he in Arkham?"

"Because they don't understand him and they're scared of things they don't understand." I explained. "That's why they sent him to us to 'cure' him."

Eliza sucked her teeth in thought before the alarm on her phone went off. She glanced at it and stood up, gathering up her things together, picking stray bits of paperwork off the floor.

"My break is over, sorry." She smiled sympathetically. "Ill see you around, thanks for the coffee."

"Anytime, see ya." I smiled back and she left for the bus stop.

I huffed. Nice one Trace, just scare your only friend off with you're 'crazy' theories. I gulped down the rest of my coffee and took a bite of my pop tart. I paused mid -chew. There was something papery stuck inside the pastry. I grimaced and pulled it out of my mouth. My stomach clenched when I saw what it was. My favourite food had just been ruined forever. The only question circling in my mind was: how?


	8. Tattoos

**_Sorry_ about the last chapter, I personally found it a bit dull. Im making this up as I go along so I don't know exactly when it'll get more exciting but I'm hoping it's soon :) Btw: I just read a comic called the Joker by Brian someone, the artwork was amazing and it gave you a really good insight into the Joker. I definitely recommend it.**

**I do not own Batman, and despite my endless wishes, I don't own the Joker either...  
**

Chapter 8

Brody was lining up in the patients' cafeteria, picking up a bowl of porridge. He huffed and waited as they ambled along. Could the queue go any slower? Some of the more 'insane' or 'dangerous' patients had to have their food brought to them. Why couldn't the lunatics get their own food? Half of them were probably faking it anyway. _I signed up to be a security guard, not a waiter!_ he thought. On Wednesdays Brody got the afternoon off, so naturally he spent the mornings watching the clock tick by. He'd managed to talk to the blonde nurse though, that was an unexpected surprise. He'd admired the way she'd handled the Joker in her first session; she'd seemed so calm. And the way she spoke about him with that look of curiosity and fascination, its was un-real. Brody had seen a lot of the nutters in this madhouse, but none of them had genuinely terrified him. Hell, none of them had come close to scaring him. But now that he'd seen the Joker, he didn't think anything could ever scare him again. That laugh sent shivers up his spine. He'd never been scared of clowns as a kid, but he swore he now had minor coulrophobia (he'd looked the word up on wikipedia). Brody's thoughts wandered again back to the nurse. He'd never actually liked someone for their personality before, he felt like he was still a teenager when he was talking to her. She wasn't exactly stunning looks-wise - she was quite plain actually. But she had a sort of charisma about her. Well if she'd managed to make the Joker like her, that was good enough for him.

He snapped out of his thoughts as he got handed a bowl of porridge and cup of water, (both the bowl, cup and spoon made of re-enforced plastic) with the number 225 stuck to it on a post-it note. He thanked the cafeteria lady, not really sure of what he was thanking her for, and made his way towards the room. The white corridors made him uneasy as less and less people walked past. Soon it was deserted, and the endless maze of cells made his wonder whether he should've brought a map. When he was nearly there he realized this route was all too familiar. He stopped and re-read the room number. He sighed. _Think of the devil..._ Luckily there was two walls between them. Brody couldn't help but think how much safer he would be with an extra wall there. He stopped at the cell door and unlocked the small latch, took off the post-it note (inmates weren't allowed to know where they were in the Asylum in case they tried to escape) and put the food and drink inside. Suddenly, as fast as lightning, the opposite latch opened and a hand grabbed his wrist. Brody yelled but his head was slammed against wall as his arm was pulled inside, knocking the porridge onto his arm. He gritted his teeth as it burnt his arm.

"Why Hello - er - Mr Guard." the voice drawled.

Brody tried to pull away but the cold hand on his wrist was clamped down hard in a vice-like grip, the claw like nails digging into his skin. _Why wasn't there extra security on this cell?_

"Don't run away, I just wanted a little - er - man to man chat." he taunted, sniggering like a child. A very demented child.

Brody was about to cry out again for help, when something sharp pricked against his skin. He held his breath, not moving a muscle.

"I see you have a tattoo there..." he observed the knotted celtic symbol, tracing it with his 'weapon'. "Tell me macho man, did it hurt?"

"Get the hell off the me you freak!" Brody hissed and the Joker laughed, digging the broken plastic into his forearm just enough to draw blood.

"I'm a good artist, trust me." He sneered. "I'm feeling generous so - um - I'll give you a tattoo for free, huh?"

Brody let his arm go limp before pulling suddenly in a desperate attempt to get away. The Joker was too fast. He plunged the plastic into Brody's forearm, tearing deep into his skin. He screamed in agony as a searing pain tore up to his arm to his shoulder. The ragged edges of the implement were splintered and uneven. Brody felt as if he could fall unconscious from the pain. His throat was raw and his cries shattered the silence of the corridor as they bounced through the ward.

"Don't run away, this is a good offer." He chuckled before ripping a line through Brody's skin, needle like pieces of plastic breaking off into the sloppy wound. "Grow some balls and take it like a man."

The Joker threw his head back and laughed maniacally, his hands covered in blood, as Brody continued to scream. He yanked the makeshift weapon out of his arm but continued to hold on; a limpet to a rock. Brody began to feel dizzy and he was losing feeling in his arm. Unfortunately, the pain remained like a fire blazing under his skin. The security guard didn't have the strength to pull away as the Joker brought the plastic back down into his arm. Brody fell to his knees as the Joker repeated himself, muttering something under his breath. The last thing he saw through his hazy vision was a figure running towards him in a white coat before he blacked out.

_Back in Blue's Cafe..._

"_I told you I'd see you soon, doll. Bet you can't wait. Call me when you need me. -J_"

I froze and looked around, panicking. I looked over at the woman behind the counter, trying to remember if I'd seen her face anywhere. I frowned. I'd known that girl for years, she'd never work for the Joker. I shoved the poptart to one side, wiped the pastry off the card and put it safely with the other one. I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. Then something in my head clicked. What was similar both times the card had appeared? _Eliza._ Eliza had been with me. Was it possible? I'd always thought I could judge people well, but I'd never have guessed this. I shook my head trying to make sense of it all. I didn't want to believe it, but what else did I have to go on? I gathered up my things and left the cafe, getting into my car. I drummed my hands on the wheel before driving back to my apartment. I locked the car, climbed the small amount of steps before unlocking the door and rushing inside. I'd turned the heating off before I left so the apartment was cold. I threw my bag and keys on the kitchen table and slumped onto the sofa in the living room.

It was midday, I'd had a coffee, yet I was exhausted. I just wanted to sleep and never wake up until the Joker had got bored. Unfortunately, that didn't seem possible. It had only been two days. _Two days_ since I'd met the Joker and I was already losing the will to live. It had felt like a month at least. Everything was going too fast! I was having a hard time believing it, but I guess working in an Asylum (even for only _two days_) had its effect on you. And it was about to get worse as I heard my phone ring from the kitchen.

**I just realized how fast paced this story is! I'm definitely going to have to try and slow it down :P Plz review and tell me your thoughts. I probs won't write for a while coz I need to think up a solid storyline otherwise this fanfic is on the road to nowhere.  
**


	9. Suspicion

**I do not own anything to do with batman apart from a copy of the Dark Knight trilogy and a few batman comics and my OCs.**

Chapter 9

"Hello?"

"Hey Trace!" Eliza practically yelled down the phone.

I gritted my teeth.

"How did you get my number?" I asked suspiciously.

I wasn't in the mood to talk to talk to anyone directly involved in my work life, especially ones that may be working for my arch enemy. Even though my home life only really consisted of sketching random strangers, the news, and my Goldfish named Erik and Christine. I almost laughed. Normal people didn't have arch enemies, did they? There was a slight pause on the end of the phone.

"I asked Dr. Roberts." she replied, sounding confused. "Why?"

I sighed, feeling stupid for suspecting her. But she wasn't totally out of the question, I still had the most evidence on her.

"Just curious," I forced a laugh. "Why did you call?"

There was another pause.

"Strange," Eliza thought aloud. "You struck me as the kind of person who watches the news..."

I rolled my eyes and smiled.

"I do watch the news, I just haven't had time to turn the TV on yet." I countered, sitting on the coffee table and turning on the TV.

I was immediately obvious why she'd called.

"**BREAKING NEWS: ARKHAM SECURITY GUARD ATTACKED BY THE JOKER"**

I was hardly aware of Eliza rambling on in my ear as I listened to the plastic news reader tell the rest of the story.

"In the Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane at approximately ten past nine this morning, 26 year old security guard Brody Lancer was taking food to the Joker's cell. It is not yet known how, but the Joker took hold of the guard and brutally mutilated his upper left arm with what was though to be a broken plastic pen. It is unknown how the Joker got hold of the implement or how he escaped his restraints but his cell is now being closely monitored 24/7. Brody Lancer is being treated at The Gotham Mercy General Hospital. Although his wounds are severe and he suffered a lot of blood loss, his condition is being treated as stable. Onto our correspondent Daniel Evans outside the asylum for incoming news."

I stared my my mouth open at the screen. My mind was whirring but I was thinking nothing. Feeling nothing. I didn't know what to feel. I looked at the clock: quarter past ten. I'd only had a few proper conversations with Brody, but he'd been nothing but kind to me. I began to wonder about how he was being treated but was pulled back to reality once again by the sound of Eliza's voice.

"Tracy?" she asked, panicking. "Tracy are you alright?"

"Um- Yeah yeah I'm fine," I stammered. "I'm just a bit shocked."

"I know right! I mean, how did the Joker-" she paused at his name and I shivered. "-attack him from inside his cell?"

I shrugged and sighed, running a hand through my hair. The Joker was too clever for us all.

"I don't know. Is Brody alright? How bad was it?" I asked, trying to hide the worry in my voice.

"You know him?" she questioned, not missing anything.

I blushed.

"Well... Yeah a bit." I admitted, mentally kicking myself for not asking for his number. "Does Dr Roberts have his number?"

"Probably, I'll text it to you if I get it. And I think he'll be OK. The cuts were pretty deep but they weren't fatal." she assured me.

I exhaled in relief.

"Thanks." I muttered.

"That's OK."

There was an awkward silence.

"Well, at least there's a lot of security around him now." Eliza tried to lighten the mood. "I bet you're glad it wasn't you who got cut up."

"Yeah." I mumbled.

I was glad, but I would've deserved it a lot more than him. I shuddered to think it was me that gave him the pen. How was I supposed to know what he'd do? _He's a psychotic mass murderer, you shouldn't give him anything!_ yelled a voice in the back of my head which I pointedly ignored.

"Do you think they'll interview you?" asked Eliza, the question totally throwing me off guard.

"W-what?" I spluttered.

"Well, you are the Joker's former psychiatrist." she explained.

I shook my head and laughed nervously.

"No, I only had one official session with him, and even then I didn't find out anything." I tried to assure myself; I couldn't stand interviews, it was like being interrogated.

"But you're the only evidence they have to go on." she replied calmly.

"I'm hardly evidence. They'll probably interview the new German guy." I muttered.

"You said you watched the news." Eliza sighed. "No-one is allowed to see the Joker for at least a week until they're sure he won't try anything."You can never be sure with the Joker." I argued.

"Tell me about it." Eliza laughed dryly and I frowned but shook it off.

"Do you think he's scared the German guy away?" I asked, obscuring the hope in my voice.

_What is wrong with you? The Joker just attacked the guy you're meant to be going on a date with and you still want to be in the same room with him? _The only thing I acknowledged from my conscience's ramblings was my date with Brody. I guess that wasn't going to happen.

"I don't think so," Eliza said sounding annoyed. "From what I've heard he's as cocky as..." she paused. "Basically he thinks he's the best psychiatrist in the world and apparently 'some crazy clown'," she mimicked a German accent and I laughed. "Could never stop him from doing his job."

I sighed.

"I don't like him already."

Eliza scoffed.

"Yeah, sameage." there was another awkward silence. "So... I'll - er - text you the guards number then if I get it."

"Ok then cool, see ya then."

"Ciao ciao." the line went dead.

I huffed and hung up, putting the phone on the table and sprawling out on the sofa. Two says ago, my life was fairly normal. I laughed as I recalled the obscurity of the events of the past couple of days. If someone had told me a month ago this would be happening I would've told them to get a life, but now I wish someone had. At least I'd be prepared. I'd had enough drama for my whole life, enough to reconsider my career path. I sighed and pinched my nose with my thumb and forefinger. I pulled the cards of of my shirt and sat up, shuffling to two of them over and over. I wanted to just cast them aside, rip them up, set them on fire, but I didn't want to face the consequences of ignoring the Joker's warning. What did he mean: "Call me when you need me"?

I put them down on the table and lay back down on the sofa and thought about my family. How would they react if they saw me now? My parents and my brother would probably turn their noses up at me disappointedly and my sister would pity me. Not that any of them could help now; my parents had disowned me, my brother was too important to care, and my sister was working in a hospital in Arkansas and I only had her old phone number. So technically, I was cut off from my family and only had two people I could call 'friends'. One of them was in hospital because of me and one I was having a hard time trusting.

I could consider transferring to be a counselor or something, dealing with stressed out teens rather than criminally insane maniacs. _But where's the fun in that?_


	10. Goldfish

**Im on Holiday by the beach! I've inked loads of Nephilim runes onto my arms so I've been getting a lot of weird glances and people whispering, but who cares! I've seen the Mortal Instruments movie twice and it only came out in the UK on the 21st! I can't wait for the next book :)**

**My attempt to slow the story down is probably making it boring but bear with me because action will hopefully come soon. I do not own Batman or DC, only my OCs.  
**

Chapter 10

I woke to the sound of my phone buzzing in my ear. I groaned and sat up. The screen flashed blue yelling "NEW TEXT MESSAGE!". I rubbed my eyes with my knuckles and blinked, disorientated. The text was evidently from Eliza as it had Brody's number on it. I checked the time. It was half past 7. I gasped; annoyed at myself for sleeping for so long. I immediately dialed Brody's number before pausing, chewing on my lip in thought. Would he think I was a bit weird calling him? We didn't know each other that we'll, but I guess you had to make friend quickly in Arkham. I decided to go halfway and send him a text.

**Hey Brody, I just wanted to check if you're OK. I guess we won't be having lunch tomorrow.**

I frowned and deleted the last sentence. That sounded too harsh, and he probably had other things on his mind and I was happy to rearrange it anyway, I needed a bit of a break myself.

**I hope you get better soon, I'll look forward too seeing you :) - Tracy**

That probably sounded really soppy and girlish, but I guess he needed some support right now. I shrugged and sent the text. I put the phone on the table and walked into my bedroom, getting changed out of my uniform into faded blue jeans and a t-shirt that used to be white but had been worn so much it was now grey.

As I walked past the mirror I backtracked. My normally green eyes were now duller and ringed with black and my hair looked like a birdsnest. So much so that I wouldn't be surprised to find a twig or cracked egg stuck in my ponytail. I looked like a wreck. I sighed and pulled the tie out of my hair, picking up a brush and trying to tear the knots out. _Before Arkham, you actually looked respectable. What are you_ now?

I ran a hand through my hair but it got stuck . I growled in frustration and threw the hairbrush on the floor. I knelt on the floor next to the fish tank and gave Erik and Christine their food.

"At least you guys have each other." I mumbled to them and Erik blew bubbles.

I smirked. It's weird to think my interest in curing psychopaths started when I was in Toronto on a holiday (a.k.a. a business trip which involved both of my parents which naturally meant all of us had to go) and went to see 'Phantom of the Opera'. I used to have a fish called Raoul, but he died. I personally think Erik killed him to protect Christine. I couldn't help but think how great it would be to have someone who loved you so much they'd die for you. Unfortunately there were no deformed singing geniuses capable in reality. Only scarred clowns with face paint.

I could dream though. But I guess that's all I could do. If you lived in Gotham with a social standard like mine, you'd be stupid to hope to end up with someone like Bruce Wayne or any other billionaire gentleman. I patted the glass and stood up, grabbing my jacket off the back of the chair. I put it on, grabbed my phone and keys before striding out the door again, double locking it behind me. I needed air, I was never going to be able to get to sleep anyway.

I wrapped my jacket tighter around me as the cold chill of Gotham sunk into my skin. It sounded cheesy, but it never used to be this dark or this cold at night. And it wasn't a change of seasons; it was spring and nearly summer so the days were supposed to be getting longer. Not that you needed a weatherman to predict the weather in Gotham, I could do that myself - rain, possible snow or hail, and clouds. I know it's cheesy, again, but it was as if the Joker had a physical effect on the city.

As I walked briskly down the street, my hood up, I began to regret my decision. I smirked to myself. Why the hell did I choose to go out at this hour? As always in Gotham, I felt like I was being followed. And to be honest, I probably was. The takeout was only 4 blocks away, but when you were walking, it suddenly became a lot longer. Actually, I was surprised my car hadn't been hijacked or vandalized yet._ Don't tempt_ fate. I passed just one person but thankfully we both avoided eye-contact with each other.

As I approached the take-out, I noticed hooded men stood outside, talking quietly together, some holding bottles of beer and others cigarettes. I ducked into an alley,_ because that's obviously the safest place ever, _and listened in to their conversation from a safe distance.

"I don't think he's planning on escaping." One said and another scoffed.

"What d'you mean? You think he's having fun in there?" He teased , sarcasm dropping off of his words. "I know he's not exactly normal, but you'd have to be proper insane to want to stay in there."

Another stamped on a used cigarette and took a swig from his bottle. "He is proper insane." He slurred.

"He's nuts alright," the first spoke up again. "But I wouldn't be working for him if he wasn't a genius." The others shrugged and nodded slowly so he continued. "Besides, Harley says he's found a new toy to play with. She sounded a bit jealous if you ask me."

The drunk snorted. "To break more like."

"What like he broke you?" The first snapped. "You've gotta have a strong mind like me and Bozo here to work for the Joker. Not some drunk-ass like you."

I gasped and clasped a hand over my mouth. Just my luck, running into the Joker's puppets. I frowned. Who the hell was Harley? How many followers did he have exactly? All thoughts of a takeout gone from my mind, I turned hastily and speed-walked in the other direction. The conversation behind me stopped momentarily. I prayed desperately under my breath that they wouldn't notice me. My prayers were ignored.

"Hey!" One of them yelled. "Where are you going, gyal?"

I sped up, hoping they'd give up quickly. But again, my hopes went unheard.

"Oi! I'm talking to you" I heard footsteps coming towards me followed by chuckling, low and dangerous.

I broke into a jog, not risking a glance behind me.

"Listen to me when I'm talking to you, bitch!" another yelled and a glass bottle smashed against the wall next to me.

I screamed and jumped to the side, almost loosing my balance as I tripped. I heard them laughing behind me as if this was all some sick game. I bit my lip and ran faster, skidding as I rounded the corner into an alleyway. My heart hammered against my ribcage as my feet pounded against the concrete. _Not again. Please not again._ Suddenly, a bullet ricocheted off the brick, showering me in a cloud of orange dust. I threw myself sideways and crouched against the walls as more bullets embedded themselves into wall behind where I was just standing.

The firing ceased and I heard the men murmuring among themselves. I tried to slow my breathing down as I listened intently. I frowned and strained my hearing. Then the footsteps resumed, but instead of moving away, they were coming closer. I scrambled away on my knees as one of the men knelt down in front of me and smirked, a shotgun in his hand, the metal glinting in the half-light._  
_

"What's a poor little lady like you doing out at night, huh?" he teased and I shuffled backwards before I hit a wall.

My blood ran cold. Of all places, I was in a dead end alley. I gulped as tears of frustration threatened to fall down my cheeks. I closed my eyes, alcohol tinted breath tickling my face. Suddenly, there was a deafening BLAM, and I gasped as blood began to soak the front of my shirt.

**I will post-pone writing due to BLOODY WRITERS BLOCK! Mortal Instruments has been taking over my mind so I'm finding it hard to concentrate on the gorgeous Joker or any other Dark Knight stuff. I promise I will try and think of something soon!**


	11. Cabs

**I do not own Gotham or anyone in it! If I did then I would happily hand it over to the Joker :) This is yet another filler chapter - apologies. Writers block is a bitch.**

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Chapter 11

The Thug slumped over, his body a dead weight as it pinned me against the wall. My mouth hung open with shock as there were two more gunshots - BLAM BLAM - and the other men dropped instantly to the floor. I sat frozen for a few, sickeningly long moments, before I glared disgustedly down at the dead body which was now drooling on my shirt, his saliva mixing in with his blood.

I put my hands on his chest and shoved him off of me. I stood up slowly, my heart racing as adrenaline continued to course through my veins. I poked his body with the toe of my shoe. I smirked to myself and poked his side again. The sight of his corpse lying lifeless in the puddles made my smile widen. I didn't know who'd helped me, but right now I was just happy they'd been taught a lesson. It made me shudder to think how many other innocent people had ended up worse than me. I spat on the ground next to him and kicked the body into the gutter.

My only regret was that I hadn't killed them. I would've liked to seen the fear in their faces. I looked up and around the corner, trying to see who could've killed them. It was deserted.

I frowned, knelt down, and pulled the gun out of the dead guy's grasp, turning it over in my hand. It fitted perfectly. The metal glinted in the half-light. I put the slightest amount of pressure on the trigger as I pointed it at the sky. _Just a single bullet held so much power..._

I gasped and dropped the gun. It clattered against the floor and I covered my mouth with my hands. Suddenly the sight of the three dead bodies made me feel sick. Their eyes were open, staring blankly at the sky, their still open in shock from their last moments. Despite my legs feeling like rubber, I managed to force myself to run from the scene, the blood on my shirt dripping onto the side walk as I sped.

After a walk which seemed to take forever, I finally stumbled up the steps to my apartment and fumbled with the keys, my hands shaking. As soon as the door was open I dove inside and slammed in behind me, re-locking it.

I slid slowly to the floor and tried to slow my breathing. I rubbed my temples with my finger-tips, trying to blot-out the smell of blood and sweat that filled my nose. _What the hell was I thinking?_ My breathing was ragged and shaky. _How could I have been so calm with a gun in my hand? A GUN FOR CHRISTS SAKE!_

I stood up shakily, leaning on the wall for support. Inhaling deeply, I opened my bedroom door and stripped off my bloodstained clothes, dumping them in the corner out of sight, and putting on some light PJs. I collapsed onto my bed and buried my face in the pillow, hot tears soaking the fabric.

My parents were probably right when they said this job would destroy me. I'm not the sort of person who gives up easily, but this was all too much. I could maybe try and get hold of them tomorrow and see if I could stay with them, even if it meant begging and grovelling down the phone. _I'll be fine after a break. _I told myself. A voice in the back of my head said otherwise: _what, until another two or three days later when you have to go running back to Mum and Dad?_

The next day I found myself once again sat in the coffee shop, with no purpose in life. I'd avoided a pop-tart and had gone for a twinkie instead. I slumped my head on the table and huffed. My phone lay mockingly on the table in front of me, daring me to call my parents. After a whole morning of mental war, I still wasn't decided. One thing I hated was relying on people, it meant you owed them something in the future, and debt was the last thing I needed. Especially from them; they already thought I was a failure. I sighed resignedly and picked it up. The worst they could do is say no. I dialed their number and waited as it rung. Once. Twice. Thrice.

"Hello?" said a woman.

I was taken aback - that wasn't my dad's voice. Or my mum's. Had I got the wrong number?

"Um... Hello? Is Mr or Mrs Lestrange available?" I asked nervously, drumming my fingers on the table.

The was a pregnant pause.

"Hello?" I asked again.

"I'm sorry, they moved out a couple of months ago." the woman replied emotionlessly.

I held back a gasp. _Why hadn't anyone told me? _Then I thought about it: who would feel the need to call me? Its not like anyone cared, my parents probably didn't even know my number and I only caught up with my sister about once a year if we're lucky.

"Well um... This is their daughter calling, do you know their new number by any chance?"

There was another lengthy silence before muffled, harsh whispers could be heard down the phone. The woman sighed dramatically and return to the phone.

"No, sorry." she answered bluntly.

I waited patiently for her to say something else, but it just became awkward again.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?" she asked promptly - obviously there were better things she could be wasting her time with.

"No thank-you. Er, thanks for your time." I said as politely as I could.

The line went dead. I sucked my teeth and hung up, setting to phone back on the table and swirling the dregs of my coffee around in the cup. I furrowed my brow as they made the shape of a frowning face. _Well that was a bad omen if I ever saw_ one.

I stood up slowly and collected my things, grimacing, reluctant to have to go out into the bleak Gotham rain. I slung my bag over my shoulder, shoved my hands in my pockets, and walked outside to hail a cab. I was a bit short on cash so I didn't want to spend any money on gas. I couldn't be bothered to work out which was cheaper, but I felt a tiny bit safer not having to constantly check out the window of the shop to see if my car had been broken into or not. After one cab drove straight past, drenching me in dirty puddle water, I managed to get one to stop. Maybe today was going to be better than usual. I got inside, happy that for once the cab heater was on.

"Where to?" Grumbled the driver, barely audible.

_Ungrateful bastard. _I paused. Where did I want to go? The obvious answer was home, but maybe discussing a new case would take my mind off things. I didn't have my uniform with me, but hopefully my I'D in my wallet would be enough.

"Arkham Asylum." I answered after the slightest hesitation.

The driver raised an eyebrow.

"You're not one of 'em crazies are ya?" He asked suspiciously.

I rolled my eyes.

"Do I really looked that bad?"

The driver gave me a once over in the mirror before smirking to himself.

"Not at all." He leered before pulling out into the building traffic. "So what you work there?"

I gazed out the window at the rain and dull grey palette of the city. I groaned mentally, but I guess I had nothing better to do than talk to him.

"Yeah, I just got off a case actually." I explained in perfect monotone.

At least he was someone I could grumble to.

"So you try to cure them do ya?" He inquired, sounding interested - he probably didn't get many psychiatrists to talk to. "Does it work?"

I scoffed. I could lie and tell him it does, but the criminally insane usually take tears to cure, and I don't think I could stand being on the same case for that long. Sometimes people get lucky, but I usually hand cases over once I diagnosed them. And my only proper case had been stolen.

"Occasionally." I muttered.

The cabbie laughed. "Well I guess some people are just too far gone, even for your help. No offense of course."

"Mm-hmm." I mumbled dreamily, not really paying attention.

We sat the rest of the journey in silence, until we neared the edges of Gotham, the traffic thinning out.

"I heard that Joker guy landed in Arkham." He said to seemingly no-one in particular.

Then I realised he was waiting for an answer.

"Yeah, I er think he arrived a few weeks back."

"That guy gives me the major creeps, you know what I'm saying?" He asked enthusiastically and I nodded. "Those home videos and everything," he shivered. "He is one sick and twisted bastard."

I kept my mouth shut as he pulled up outside the ominous grey building. I handed him my cash and got out the cab, almost getting run over by a string of motorbikes. The cabbie waved and I sighed before heading towards the visitors entrance. Why we had a visitors entrance at all, I would never find out.


	12. Understanding

**I don't own DC. Need I say more?**

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Chapter 12

I trudged towards the front desk, rainwater dripping onto the floor. Despite the walk from the cab being short, the rain was so heavy it was as if someone had sliced through the clouds with a knife and all the water they held was falling down all at once. The entrance was small, with only several chairs and a coffee machine. I smiled to myself - we probably went through about 40 tons of coffee a day.

There was only one person sat miserably on the chairs. She was a young woman about my age, twisting an engagement ring nervously on her finger, biting her lip anxiously. I sighed sympathetically. I could imagine how it was already: a young couple struggling for money, the man getting in debt, deep in with the sharks, the stress driving him mad and he cant escape so instead he finds solace in explosions and killing. Or, maybe it was a military tragedy, seeing things that scared him for life. I shook my head. Sometimes I liked to just sit and study people, make up lives and backstories that they may have lived. The human mind was such a complex place, especially the ones in here. I huffed - not that I'd ever be right, not unless I spoke to them.

The lady at the desk looked up and raised an eyebrow.

"Dr. Lestrange?" she asked.

I nodded, smiling sheepishly.

"Sorry, but the cab dropped me off here and I didn't want to walk in the rain to the other side so-"

She raised a hand and nodded understandingly.

"Its alright, I get it. Did you want to speak to Dr Roberts?"

"Um, yes please if he's not busy."

The lady typed on the computer and started speaking down her microphone to someone.

"Dr Lestrange requesting a meeting with Dr. Roberts." She stated monotonously.

She paused waiting for the reply.

"Yes. Ok, mm-hmm, of course I'll send her up now."

I read her name badge: Ms Guildford. Didn't ring any bells. She spun in her chair and faced me (not unlike an evil genius), and smiled.

"He's finishing a meeting in about half an hour so you can go and wait outside his office."

I smiled half-heartedly back.

"Thanks, bye." I said, before heading towards the door taking one last glance at the woman perched on one of the chairs looking sick with worry.

I fished my wallet out of my thoroughly soaked bag and swiped my I'D across the pad. The door clicked open and I walked down the corridor and waited for the elevator. The footballers and a fat janitor waddled out. I helped her when a load of cleaning detergents fell out of her cart but , just my luck, the elevator doors closed before I got inside. I growled and hammered on the button but, obviously, it was as already gone. I couldn't be bothered to wait, so I walked two flights of steps and stopped at a vending machine to get some lucozade. As I was shaking my change out of the uncooperative machine, I heard a voice shout down the corridor behind me.

"Tracy!"

I turned, to see Eliza jogging towards me, the pile of paper bouncing up and down precariously in her arms. I smiled mentally when I saw her blue high tops sneakers clashing with her uniform.

"I haven't seen you in one whole day!" She yelled angrily.

"Shh!" I hissed trying to suppress laughter as a guard poked his head around the corner and frowned at us.

"I thought you were having a break?" She asked, handing her papers to me as she dug into her pocket to find some change for the machine. I could've sworn her pile of paper just got taller and taller.

"Yeah I was, but it got boring." I replied.

"After a day?" She smirked, raising an eyebrow.

I shrugged.

"I don't having anything better to do."

She sighed and took the paper back off me, a can of coke in her hand.

"Your life must be so so boring."

I nodded.

"Pretty much."

There was an awkward silence.

"Well that was a dead end conversation on the road to no-where." Eliza joked and I laughed.

"Oh well, I've got to talk to Dr Roberts anyway, he's assigning me a new case."

She smiled sympathetically.

"Its a shame you lost that case, but I'm sure you'll get something good this time." She assured me. "Catch you later."

"Yeah, ciao ciao." I mumbled and headed towards his office.

I sat on one of the chairs outside, feeling like a school kid waiting for a detention. I could hear snippets of the conversation inside.

"Not safe..." "Higher security levels..." "Blackgate prison..." "Our last hope..."

To be honest it all sounded pretty depressing. One could assume they were talking about the Joker.

Suddenly the door opened and I jumped up out of my seat, only to find myself face to face, or more, face to chest, with Bruce Wayne. My mouth fell open in shock and I stumbled backwards, almost falling over as the back of my knees hit the chair. My face flushed and I smile up at him, smoothing down my battered old jeans and discreetly trying to smooth down my uber-frizzy hair.

He smiled warmly down at me, his dark drown eyes staring into mine. I smiled nervously back, fighting the urge to look down. Fortunately, before the silence could get uncomfortable, he spoke.

"Hello, Dr Lestrange right?" He said, extending a hand.

I shook it, hoping he didn't notice my clammy skin. I couldn't believe he knew my name! His grip was firm, his hands callous and... scarred? I released his hand and tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

"Um," I started, licking my lips, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt. "Tracy Lestrange yes. Bruce Wayne right?"

I mentally kicked myself. Of course he knew I knew who he was! He practically owned Gotham! He smiled knowingly.

"The one and only. Dr Roberts here was telling me all about you."

His cockiness annoyed me, but I quickly brushed it aside as I revelled in the fact that Bruce Wayne, BRUCE BLOODY WAYNE, was actually talking to me.

"You were the Joker's psychiatrist right?" He asked and I nodded, trying to hide the grimace on my face at the word 'was'. It would be so much more impressive if I still was.

"Yeah I was, it was a very... unique experience." I explained and he smirked.

"Im sure it was, you did very well in fact, I saw the footage."

My heart skipped a beat. Dammit! Why did he have to see that? I shook my head.

"Not good enough it seems." I sighed.

Bruce tutted sympathetically and leant forward to whisper in my ear.

"Personally, I think you did much better than that German guy will."

I fought the urge to shiver at the personal space invasion. Not that I minded. He straightened up and I smiled.

"Well, er... Thanks but you're probably just saying that."

"No of course not," he said sincerely. "I wouldn't lie. Besides, I'd be surprised if he gets the Joker to talk at all."

I smirked and shrugged.

"Well I can't say I'm not gutted, but I guess the sooner he gets cured the better." I decided.

"Do you really believe that?" Bruce asked, a curious look on his face. "Do you really believe he can be cured?"

He looked deep into my eyes. My brain was going haywire. Should I tell him how I really felt and risk sounding mad? Or should I act like everyone else here and say what he wants to hear?

"No I don't." I concluded, studying his face.

He sighed repeatedly and looked down at the floor. I immediately felt bad. His family had given so much to this city, in some ways he probably feels responsible for it. Despite the fact that even if you are a billionaire, it was hard to protect the city from a homicidal maniac. Even the Batman couldn't keep him locked up for long.

"He's really that insane?" He asked, a slight amount of disbelief in voice.

I shook my head, despairing over how wrong he actually was.

"Quite the opposite Mr Wayne." I explained, not able to stop myself. "He's not insane, he's just-"

"Ahead of the curve..." Bruce mumbled and I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

He looked up at me and smiled sadly.

"Don't worry. I understand what you mean." He said, and something about his tone that made me suddenly feel not so crazy.

I smiled a genuine smile. No-one else had understood my seemingly mad theories before, until now. I laughed in relief and Bruce raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry," im muttered quickly. "Its just that I thought I was the only one that thought that. I thought I was going a bit nuts to be honest."

Bruce chuckled.

"Well then if you're mad then so am I, maybe we could share a room here one day?" He joked .

"Maybe. It was nice meeting you Mr Wayne." I smiled.

He smiled back, the kind of smile that would sweep most girls off of their feet.

"Call me Bruce, and it was nice meeting you too, Doctor. Ill see you around."

He kissed my hand softly before turning on his heel and walking away. I scoffed as he went around the corner.

"I wish." I mumbled.

I'd be forgotten in about five minutes. I'd never set my sights that high, no matter how charming he seemed. I snapped back to reality. What about Brody? I quickly dug my phone out of my bag and check the screen. Nothing. I sighed and bit my lip - what if he blamed me and never wanted to see me again?

I turned my phone off and peered in through the window in Dr Roberts's office door. He was sat swivelling around on his chair counting money and smiling to himself. I scrunched my face up in disgust. You could be head of an institute based on helping people restore their lives, but the bottom line was always money.

Always bloody money. Why couldn't people ever do things for fun? Or to help people out of the goodness of my heart. I laughed once humourlessly as I knocked on the door. Who was I kidding? This was Gotham we lived in.

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**Thank-you so much for everyone who reviewed! But anyone who hasn't, please do! I don't want to continue writing crap stories :( ****I'm gonna stop writing for a while now because I figured that my fanfics kinda repetitive and personally pretty boring so I'm gonna go shut myself in a room somewhere an focus on the Joker so I can think of something mildly interesting to write :p**


	13. Harleen Quinzel

**Thanks to my amazing viewers and reviewers! I've decided to make my chapters slightly longer as I just re-read my whole fanfic and decided that they looked too short. Sorry once again if its too fast paced or if you dont like it in general :( **

**Ní féidir liom fear batféin.**

* * *

Chapter 13

"Come in!" Dr Roberts called.

I rolled my eyes as I opened the door: here we go again. He frowned when he saw me, locking his money in the safe under his desk.

"Dr Lestrange, you have come to agree on a case?"

I nodded and sat down opposite him. He took in my bedraggled appearance and smirked.

"No uniform today then?"

I scowled.

"My decision to turn up here was slightly spontaneous, that's all." I explained.

"Evidently."

I gritted my teeth.

"So, did you have a nice talk with Mr Wayne?" he asked and I raised an eyebrow.

"Why are you curious?"

"He seems to have taken a liking to you." he commented.

"You were eavesdropping?" I accused, trying to keep my voice at an acceptable volume.

"No no, merely observing."

I sighed and continued.

"So about the case-"

"Oh yes your case!" He interrupted, skimming through some papers on his desk until he pulled one out and pushed it across the table to me.

"Emile Dorian." He stated as I picked up the paper and began to scan the page. "A geneticist specialized in splicing. He genetically altered a gorilla, created a half-man half-tiger hybrid, and even kidnapped a woman and spliced her with a cat."

I frowned. It was certainly interesting.

"Was there an antidote."

He nodded.

"The woman was cured with no side affects, the mutated gorilla was killed in the explosion that destroyed his laboratory, and the tiger hybrid escaped." He saw my expression of horror and smiled. "Don't worry, its not an imminent threat."

"What are his symptoms?" I asked without a pause.

"Mild drug induced hallucinations it seems. The amount of chemicals he was using has had an affect on his mind."

"Is he on medication?"

"We've refrained from using olanzapine as we don't think his hallucinations are too strong, but we'll leave you to come to that conclusion if you take the case." He paused, waiting for me to say something. "We certainly think you'll be capable."

"You don't need to flatter me, sir," I said, trying not to laugh at the look on his face. "I'll be happy to take the case."

He smiled and handed me a stack of papers.

"Im glad to hear it." He approved. "I'll give you a week to look through these notes, and then you can get to work."

My eyes widened at the amount I had to read through it all. I shook his hand, awkwardly balancing the papers in the crook of my elbow.

"Thanks." I mumbled, before adding out of curiosity: "Has the German psychiatrist arrived yet?"

"Yes," he confirmed. "I was just speaking with him actually." He frowned thoughtfully. "He was very sure of himself."

"I bet he was." I muttered and the Doctor laughed once.

"Lets hope he lives up to expectations."

"His or yours?" I snapped and he looked a bit taken aback.

"...Both." he answered slowly.

I looked at the floor sheepishly.

"Sorry," I mumbled. "Its just that your expectations seem to be quite high as it seems."

He just sighed and smiled that god-damn annoying sympathetic smile.

"Its not that you werent capable-"

I shook my head and forced a smile. This was so repetitive!

"No it doesnt matter," I lied. "I've just had a bad week." _Massive understatement._

"I understand, thank-you for taking the case."

"My pleasure." I said before standing up and turning to leave.

"Dr Lestrange?" he asked and I stopped. "Have the police contacted you about the assault on Brody Lancer?"

I tried to keep my breathing even and didn't turn around, just in case he saw the panicked look on my face. _They couldn't possibly blame me, could they?_

"No sir they didn't," I answered, using all of my possible acting skills to make it sound as if I was confused and not terrified. "Why?"

"I was just wondering if you knew anything, Doctor," he assured. "I was just thinking, that if you did know anything, anything at all, it would be best to tell them."

I forced another smile and steadied my shaking hands before turning around.

"Of course, sir," I complied. "I'll go to the station as soon as I can to see if I can help."

He nodded, satisfied, and waved a hand to let me go. I stopped myself running for the door and legging it out of the asylum and walked slowly out of the door. I closed it behind me and sighed, relieved to be out of the room. _Focus on your new case. It'll just be a normal conversation, you'll tell them that you don't know anything and they'll let you go.  
_

Maybe I could put it off for a few days or something when things had calmed down. If they ever did calm down. I pinched between my eyebrows andd walked away from the office towards the exit. I decided to detour at the last moment to pick up a few free cookies from one of the staff rooms. I tried to tear the knots out of my hair but it wasn't cooperating so I left it and went inside. I scanned the room for Eliza but she didn't seem to be there. I sat down on one of the tiny plastic chairs in the corner, grabbing two cookies from a plate. Ignoring the strange looks I was getting and the hushed whispers about me, I picked up the paper and my eyes flitted across the page.

Dark, fathomless Brown eyes stared back at me from the front page, the trademark black greasepaint smeared around them. His scars were twisted up into a menacing smile, one eyebrow raised as if challenging the photographer. The picture was slightly blurred, but it was obvious to anyone who knew anything about Gotham who it was.

THE JOKER STRIKES AGAIN - ARE WE REALLY RID OF HIM FOR GOOD?

I sighed and continued to read down the columns. What did I expect? The incident to suddenly be forgotten? It basically repeated everything that was said on the news, with the usual list of the Joker's crimes followed by a load of dramatic rhetorical questions and eye witness accounts. It was strange to think he'd only been terrorizing Gotham for a year and a bit, he'd only been in Arkham for a few weeks, and I'd only known him a few days. I liked to think I couldn't let him get to me, but I'm not sure anyone could stay cool once they'd been in the same room as a man who brought an entire city to its knees in such a short amount of time. Strangely, it made me feel slightly better. _Don't let him get to you! Don't make the same mistakes again!_

I huffed as I read further down the page, looking for anything more about Brody's condition. I guess I couldn't blame him for not answering me. Not in the state he's probably in.

"Excuse me?" a nasal, superior voice asked, immediately making me want to ignore it.

I turned my head slowly towards the speaker and raised an eyebrow at her.

"Was it _you_ who was originally assigned the task of 'curing' the Joker?" she asked, addressing me as if I was an ant serving no more purpose than to be crushed under her way too high heels.

Suddenly, all conversation in the room stopped at the sound of the Joker. Al eyes on me. I didn't let my composure waver as I spoke.

"Yes I was," I answered. "Why?"

The lady looked around at her peers, pointedly exchanging glances to let me know that they knew something I didn't.

"Why?" I asked again, my voice sounding slightly more agitated.

That was when everyone in the room started becoming as curious as I was. What has it that these wise old witches had to say? They could have been here since Arkham was found as far as I knew but that didn't mean all their gossip was true. _Take it with a pinch of salt._

"We just wanted to warn you miss," one of them said, taking a superior sip of superior tea from her most likely superior cup. "That's all."

I rolled my eyes.

"About what?" I sighed, averting my eyes back to the paper but making sure to keep full attention on their story.

"There was a nurse like you once, her name was Harleen Quinzel." the first told, pausing for dramatic effect.

I scoffed. This was not bloody storytime. There was a chorus of "Yes I remember her"s and "who?"s throughout the room. _You'd think trained psychologists would act a bit more mature, not indiscreetly listening into to campfire tales._

I huffed and set the paper down on the table.

"Look, I'm not going to be scared by a ghost story." I said impatiently. "If you're going to tell me something then cut the pretence already."

The superior woman gave a superior smirk.

"Well, like you, Dr Quinzel was the Joker's psychiatrist before he became... So well known." She explained. "She was a lot like you, young and full of potential, excited to do any case that was given to her, even one as challenging as this."

I scowled as she let another 'dramatic silence' fall over the room.

"Well he's no my problem anymore so I don't need to hear it." I stated bluntly and uncrossed my legs, making it look as if I was about to leave. She started talking again, slightly frantically, not wanting to be ignored.

"She didn't listen to my advice either!" she rambled. "She slowly started becoming more withdrawn. No-one noticed but we did, hell we did. When the Joker escaped she thought she was safe. But then..."

She spread her hands resignedly.

"She went missing, all of her records deleted. The police searched her apartment, but all they found was a card pack strewn over the floor covered in blood." She finished.

I sucked my teeth and stood up.

"Well you can be assured that I am officially warned." I thanked her. "I definitely will try not to go missing or go mad."

She tutted and turned away from me with her usual air of superiority. I looked around the room to see that most of them were all looking over at us, some were continuing with their hushed conversations.

"Seriously?" I asked them, raising an eyebrow. "I don't think the ghost of Harleen is gonna come back and haunt us anytime soon."

Some looked at the floor, ashamed, and others laughed. I groaned inwardly. They should bring a TV crew here and film some sort of soap opera; there was enough gossip flying around. I fought the urge to pick up another cookie and left the room, already tired of the place. _What a great way not to draw attention attention to yourself Trace, way to go. _I jogged down the stairs and out of the staff entrance, out into the rain. I felt like someone as tipped a bucket of icey water over my head as soon as I got outside. My jacket offered absolutely no protection against the torrent. I started to sprint out of the gates and towards the bus shelter and practically dove onto the bench. It sounded as if the rain was going to break through the plastic, but unfortunately someone had already done that. On one side of the bus shelter there was a gaping hole in the roof where someone had smashed it, probably for fun just to watch people like me have to sit in the rain. I huddled up to the safe side and scanned the bus schedule. The bus only came once every quarter of an hour on the outskirts of Gotham.

"Well this sucks." I grumbled, resigning myself to the 15 minute wait for the bus.

My hair dripped even more water into my eyes and all over my glasses. I took them off and tried to dry them off with my sleeve. Though as usual, my own stupidity never ceased to amaze me as they got smeared all over by my damp sleeve.

"Crap." I muttered, trying to find some piece of material I owned that wasn't soaked with rainwater.

I felt inside my bag for some tissues when my hand brushed against the cards. I shivered, and it wasn't because of the cold. _I could've sworn I left them at home._ In the end I gave up the search and put my glasses away. I could see alrightish without them, but I usually just wore them to make me look older. Despite my seeming carelessness about the 'Harleen Quinzel' thing, I was still unnerved by it. My sister always told me not to listen to gossip because even if it was true, It only got warped and emphasized over time. I tried to convince myself it wasn't true, but all stories had some truth in them, and apparently it didn't happen that long ago. Even if the Joker did escape, he'd probably already forgotten my face. _Not that I'd ever forget him_. I needed to get my brain in gear, I had to stop worrying about the bloody Joker! _You have a new patient now!_

After a while of wrestling with my own thoughts (as per usual) the bus came. I hurried onto the bus, paid the driver, and found a seat, grumbling about how $4 was absolutely scandalous for a local bus ride. It was quite a bit busier than normal, but then again I didn't really use the bus much. It was probably the rain. I wasn't really good with public transport. _  
_

I got my headphones out of my bag and started listening to Nickelback _How you remind me_to pass the time. I never heard the screeching of the bus's breaks as it tried to avoid a collision with the car skidding into the middle of the road.

**Sorry for any mistakes, but maths revision is super tiring. Plz review, even if you thought it was crap.**


	14. Impulsive

Chapter 14

The bus gave a high pitched whistle as it stopped just inches from the car. I yanked out my headphone and exhaled slowly, listening to the frightened screams of the passengers die down. After a few moments of shock, people started to chatter madly and started to get out the bus to see what was happening. The bus driver tried to stop them but they barged past him. I stood up and followed fer them.

Lying in the middle of the road was a car that looked like it had been inside a washing machine. It was probably quite expensive when it wasn't totally destroyed. I looked down the adjacent alley road to see a couple of men running down the street towards the car. We all took a step back as they arrived. One of them with a shaved head and a snake tattoo on his neck was glaring daggers at us while the other looked pretty embarrassed.

"You bloody idiot!" One of them snapped, staring in awe at the battered car.

"It was you that left the handbrake off!" The other defended himself and the snake guy snorted.

"You were meant to be guarding the thing!" He spat.

They both looked around at us.

"What the hell are you looking at?" Snake guy asked and took off his heavy leather jacket before wrapping it around his hands to avoid sharp metal or broken glass and started to push the wreck into the alley.

"Are you just gonna stand there?" He hissed and his companion hastily tried the help him.

I didn't know if it was the rain or just my mind playing tricks, but I thought I saw another tattoo - or was it a scar? - on the snake guys shoulder. It was a simple smilie face *:-)* , apart from one thing: the smile was extended and crossed by stitches on either side. A Chelsea grin. I frowned, squinting through the rain as the rest of the passengers got back on the bus - all the days excitement over apart from some shattered glass in the road.

Then, for the billionth time in about three days, I decided to act on impulse. The bus driver gave me a strange look as I walked down the road towards the next alley. Alleyways were becoming familiar places for me to hang out lately. I shivered as I remembered yesterdays events. The dead bodies on the floor in front of me, the mysterious killer, the cards, Brody, all leading back to one thing. One person.

As I entered the alleyway, I stopped and braced myself against the wall. Did all of that really happen in just one day? I groaned and ran a hand through my hair. It was hard not to let him get to me when he had quite literally invaded my life. I needed answers. And they weren't going to come to me, so I guess I was going to have to find them for myself. I continued on and stopped at the junction, looking to the left but staying hidden behind the wall. I could see the men from a distance arguing with each other, but I needed to get closer otherwise I could be following the wrong people.

My heart was hammering at a million miles per hour. My mum told me I should never think before I leap, but I never listened. Why should I? She didn't even wanna keep in touch with her daughter.

"The boss is gonna kill us you know!" Snake Guy growled, pacing back and forth next to the car. "He'll splatter our brains across the walls. And it's all your bloody fault!"

The other squirmed as Snake Guy spat on the floor at his feet.

"The boss doesn't have to know..." the other started but Snake Guy cut him off.

"Are you mad? Boss has eyes everywhere." He scoffed. "If he wants to find ya, he'll find ya, Johnny Johnny. You, my friend, are screwed."

Johnny Johnny - as he now appeared to be called - took a step backwards, his voice suspicious when he spoke.

"What do you mean, 'you'?" He asked.

Snake Guy grinned, showing his crooked yellow teeth. Johnny Johnny took a step backwards, his hand lingering on the knife concealed in his belt.

"You didn't actually think I'd keep on taking the blame for all your mistakes did ya?" He sneered. "With one phone call, I was never here. Johnny Johnny crashed the car, Johnny Johnny lost the money, so it's Johnny Johnny that gets shot."

Johnny Johnny open his mouth to protest but found himself instead found himself staring down the barrel of a handgun.

"Wait! Wait!" Johnny Johnny cried and Snake Guy struck him hard around the face.

"Shut the hell up!" He snapped. "Do you want us both to get caught by the cops?"

Johnny Johnny looked like he was considering it and Snake guy pushed the gun harder into his forehead. The poor man's skin glistened with sweat and his hands shook as he raised them above his head in a gesture of peace.

"Just, calm down, OK? Boss won't be happy if you kill me." He defended himself, and I admired his ability to speak clearly. I'd probably be a gibbering wreck.

Snake guy scoffed.

"Why? What makes you so special? Has the Boss got a soft spot for little Johnny?" He teased.

Johnny Johnny shook his head.

"He ain't got a soft spot for no-one, he just likes me a bit is all." He explained, attempting to sound casual.

Snake guy growled in anger and cocked his gun.

"You really think he'll spare you, huh?" Johnny Johnny challenged, his voice wavering slightly.

"You don't know anything." Snake Guy spat and Johnny Johnny laughed nervously.

"Don't do it, please!" He begged. "You don't have to listen to him."

Snake guy rolled his eyes and chuckled, a cold humorless sound.

"Stop whinging, No-one could ever stand up to him. He's a freak, but he's proper clever, he is. If he wants you dead, your dead. If you want him dead, you're dead. Savvy?"

Johnny Johnny smiled sadly but mockingly.

"Nice poetry, did you teach yourself?" He teased before squeezing his eyes shut.

Snake guy gritted his teeth and-. Suddenly, without meaning to, a scream escaped my lips, bouncing off the walls of the alley.

Dammit.

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_**Sorry for the really short chapter, but my motivation is kinda running out. I will try and write a longer on next time. Thanks so much to all those who have reviewed, but please review if you haven't! They are my fuel! Btw, anyone who's read Brian Somethings Joker comic, hopefully you'll know who Johnny Johnny is. But the events arent based on it, I just thought I'd add him in anyway.**_


	15. Threats

The two men's heads snapped towards me.

_You idiot. You bloody idiot._

"What the he-"

Snake guy was cut off as a flash of silver plunged into the side of his neck. His skin burst apart like a ripened grape, blood spraying the wall of the alley. He let out a soft gurgling noise as he coughed on the dark crimson liquid that flowed thickly from the sides of his mouth. Johnny Johnny twisted the knife sideways and a sharp crack reflected off the walls. Snake guy's head hung limply on his chest like a rag doll's. His body collapsed to the floor, convulsing slightly before going still, his eyes glassy and dull reflecting the fear that had eclipsed his features moments before. Johnny Johnny's breath was ragged with exertion as he knelt down next to the body. He ran a hand through his hair and swore. I cringed as he slid the knife out of his "friends" neck and wiped it on his jacket.

Me, meanwhile, feeling like I was going to have a heart-attack, was wondering why the hell I was here in the first place.

_Just stay calm. _I tried to tell myself, willing Johnny Johnny to forget I was here so I could make a run for it. The sane part of my head was crying: _You just saw a man get killed! How can you be calm about this! Why are you even here!? _I slowly started to back away, trying to keep my footsteps silent.

"Wait!"

_Dammit._

"What are you doing?"

_Walking away, what does it look like?_

Despite all of my questionable sanity pleading otherwise, I stopped. I heard the shuffle of feet and fabric as Johnny Johnny followed me around the corner. We were in clear view of the street now. I prayed to anyone you might be listening that witnesses would be enough to stop him. Not that anyone would try and help; no-one batted an eyelid when a car rolled into the middle of the road. I heard him stop behind me, his breathing still heavy.

"I said, what are you doing?"

I kept my back to him. _Trying to get away from a murderer maybe?_

** _Hypocrite_. **

_Shut up. _

Should I tell him the truth? If he was gonna shoot me, I'd just have to remind him that I saved his life. He didn't seem like the kind of person who would hurt a woman anyway.

**_Men can do anything if they're desperate. Selfish. Heartless._**

_I said shut up._

"Finding out who you work for." I informed him, my voice monotonous.

He inhaled sharply and I could hear his clothes rustling as he shifted uneasily.

"Are you a cop?" he asked nervously.

"Do I really look like a cop?" I scoffed.

"Maybe if you turn around I could tell?" he suggested.

I paused. _**Its a trick, he's gonna kill** **you.**_

"Who's to say I won't be staring down the barrel of a handgun?" I challenged and he sighed.

"Look I didn't mean to kill him!" he pleaded, as if trying to convince himself as much as me. "I was desperate, I didn't think, I mean he was gonna kill me and I-"

"You panicked?"

A pause.

"Yeah. I panicked."

"So, can I turn around and can we talk about what happened?" I asked.

"I thought you'd just wanna walk away and pretend you were never here?"

I almost laughed at the proposition.

_A few days ago I would._

_ **Then why not now?**_

_Things have changed._

**_In a few days._**

_Yes._

**_Why?_**

_..._

**_Say it._**

_Because of him._

**_Who?_**

_The Joker._

I turned around slowly to face him. I fought the urge to sigh with relief as I saw that he wasn't threatening me with any sort of weapon; the knife lay on the floor behind him._  
_

"I probably would." I smiled humorlessly. "I probably should."

Johnny Johnny's pale blue eyes searched me warily. Hopefully I didn't look as scared as he appeared.

"Then why don't you?" he questioned.

"Because I want answers." I explained, taking a step forward.

I immediately cursed myself as Johnny Johnny stepped backwards, looking quickly towards the bloody knife on the floor.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

I tried to ignore the blood that stained his clothes and ran down the side of his face as I held eye contact with him.

"I just want to know who you work for, and what he's planning."

Johnny Johnny raised an eyebrow. _That sounded a lot better in my head._

"You _just_ want to know? That's kind of a tall order, miss."

"Remember I saved your life." I reminded him.

He chuckled.

"You mean from him?" he scoffed gesturing to the corpse against the wall. "The gun wasn't even loaded."

_Damn. _I gulped, hoping he didn't notice my fear.

"Prove it."

He rolled his eyes and walked over to the body. I poked my head around the corner, making sure I was still in view of the street. Johnny Johnny prized the gun from the body's dead hands and, looking directly at me, put it against his head and pulled the trigger. The gun clicked empty and he put it in his jacket. I studied him cautiously. _Come on Trace you're a psychologist, you should be able to see through him. _But I'd already seen that he could act well. _Would he really kill you? _There was a ring on one of the fingers on his left hand. If he was broke he wouldn't sell it unless it meant something to him. A wife or girlfriend maybe? He could even have kids. _He regrets killing, you can see it in his eyes. _I guess I'd just have to hope he had some sort of empathy in his tiny brain.

I crossed my arms and sighed. He shrugged almost apologetically.

"I don't owe you anything, sweetheart." he pointed out.

"He still could've killed you." I argued.

"I had it under control."

"If you'd had it under control you wouldn't had to have killed him."

Johnny Johnny narrowed his eyes at me.

"You don't know anything, just go home and forget this." he pleaded.

"I told you I want answers." I insisted.

He ran a hand through his white blond hair in frustration and squeezed his eyes closed, the blood highlighting it red.

"And I could always call the police." I added.

His wide, frantic eyes snapped back up to mine.

"You wouldn't." he stammered.

**_As if I would, I want this information to myself. _**My own thoughts threw my mind off-balance. _Where the hell did that come from?_

This time it was me who raised an eyebrow. I could almost see the cogs turning in his head as he tried to think of a way out yet again. I felt sympathy tug at my heartstrings. _Don't even think about it, he's not worth it._

"They won't care." he tried to talk me out of it.

"Even if it means getting information about the Joker?"

The poor man's mouth fell open.

"How do you-" he frowned, trying to make sense of it.

"The Joker practically owns this town. And the way you guys spoke about him..." I spread my hands.

He sighed and leant against the wall, looking up to the bleak, misty sky.

"How do I know you won't call the police as soon as I tell you?"

I sucked my teeth in thought.

"You have my word."

Johnny Johnny snorted with laughter.

"That means nothing to me."

A smirk tugged at the corners of my mouth.

"Tell me, or I'll call them now."

"I could kill you, you know."

"You could, but I could kill you too."

Johnny Johnny looked over at me, confused.

"What do you mean?"

I smiled in triumph as I held up the bloody knife that I'd retrieved from the floor when his back was turned. He took a deep breath, his hands shaking slightly; with anger or fear I didn't know.

"I can't trust you."

_"_No shit Sherlock. And I can't trust you either that makes us square. Even I I do have a bit of an advantage." I reminded him, my hand on the front pocket of my bag where my cell was.

He groaned with annoyance and banged his head against the wall. _Childish. _There was a long silence before he spoke._  
_

"I'm gonna regret this, but what do you want?"

It was impossible to hide the smile that fought to show on my face.

"OK then, who's Harley?"

Johnny Johnny smirked unexpectedly.

"You mean Harleen Quinzel? Otherwise known as _Harley Quinn_?"

I almost laughed at the pun. Harleen Quinzel Harley Quinn Harlequin. _Oh very clever. _I rolled my eyes and he laughed lightly despite the situation.

"Yes, I mean _Harley Quinn._" I confirmed, mocking him. "Who is she?"

Johnny Johnny shrugged.

"She disappeared as soon as the Joker went to Arkham. You can usually find her at a strip club or something."

For the billionth time that week my mind began to spin.

"Wait, she's _alive?"_

"Er... Yeah last time I checked."

"So she's like the Joker's whore or something?"

Johnny Johnny laughed.

"She prefers the title: true love."

"And him?"

"He calls her his toy." he stared into the distance as if remembering something. "He's kinda possessive."

I almost felt physically sick. _Who would fall in love with a sociopath like the Joker? _I took a deep breath, trying to process this information.

"Right, um. What is he planning?"

"Planning? Who knows what hes planning?"

I sighed, feeling agitated.

"Well, is he planning to escape anytime soon?"

"He's hardly gonna stay in there forever is he? One way or another he'll get out."

"And who's in charge until he is?"

"Harley of course."

"I thought you said she disappeared."

Johnny Johnny cursed under his breath. _Ha! Fail! _

"When I say that, I mean-"

"You lied?"

"No!" he defended himself before looking sheepishly at the floor. "I mean I don't know where she is. I just take orders from the higher ups."

"And who are they?"

"Why do you need to know? If you're not gonna call the police, then what are you gonna do?"

_Good question. _The truth was I didn't know. People always talk about the power of knowledge, but when you have no-one to tell, you suddenly seemed a lot less powerful.

"Why do you work for the Joker?" I asked him randomly, avoiding his questions. He opened his mouth to protest but I pulled my cell out of my bag.

"Because... I guess we all want to be like him one day." he explained, glaring at his feet.

"A psychopathic homicidal freak?" I mocked him in disbelief.

"No, we want to have power. And money." he hastened to add.

"The Joker doesn't want money."

"That doesn't mean we don't." he snapped. "We don't want to be killers."

"You mean, _you_ don't want to be a killer."

He looked up at me with red rimmed eyes and nodded - I immediately felt bad for threatening him.

"Can anyone work for him?"

He smiled sadly.

"Don't think about it sweetheart, don't get yourself involved."

"I'm already involved, but thanks anyway Johnny Johnny." I smiled and skidded the knife across the rain-drenched floor towards him. "Good luck."

He picked up the knife slowly. I huffed and dialled 911 on my cell. Johnny Johnny saw what I was doing and his eyes widened.

"No wait!" he yelled over the sound of the rain that began to fall heavier and heavier.

"You have 5 minutes to run, I'll deal with the body and the car." I commanded, my voice void of emotion.

He laughed with relief and put the knife up his sleeve.

"Thanks, sweetheart." he muttered before turning on his heel and fleeing, his laughter fading as he got further away.

I immediately regretted my decision to follow them into the alley in the first place. **_You're in deep shit now, Trace._ **And there were still too many questions unanswered.

* * *

**Please tell me your thoughts, especially if there something you think I could improve on and whether I should continue or not. Thanx for faves, reviews, and follows :)**


	16. Limerick

Chapter 16

After shoving the body into the wrecked car and pushing the car back into the road, I quickly fled the scene. I probably should've called the police or something, but the only thought going through my scrambled mind was to get the hell out of there and get home. If I believed in any sort of god, I would probably pray for the lives of anyone who would get injured as their car, bus or taxi collided with the wreck. If they survived, they might even think they'd killed the guy. Maybe. _At least it stop anything being traced back to to you. _Why did I always have to act so spontaneously? I always leapt before I thought and winded up landing on shaky ground. With no way of getting back. I stopped by a puddle at the back of a run-down restaurant and washed the blood of my hands and clothes.

**_Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand?_**

_Shut up._

**_No, this my hand will rather the many seas turn red._**

_When did you learn Macbeth?_

**_I'm guessing you never paid any attention at school._**

I sighed and stood up, looking up and down the street. In a normal city, a street on a rainy day would be emptier than usual. In Gotham, dark skies and torrents of rain was the time when the wolves came out to play. I put my hood up and started to walk along the sidewalk, keeping my head down. I scanned the roads for a free taxi to the narrows. I tried to hail one but it instead went to the business man with an expensive briefcase. _Typical. I guess we're walking then._

After researching Emile Dorian for about 2 weeks, I'd memorised practically everything his bio said about him over the past week or so. Despite being a child of 7, he'd had a privileged upbringing meaning that he kept diving into his parents' fortunes to fund his "research" as he liked to call it. Unfortunately, like most mad scientists who had been lonely all their life, he started to think of strange ideas about how the human race could become stronger and more advanced if crossed with other species. Therefore, still keeping up the evil genius criteria, he built a lab and started conducting his experiments. So that's why there was stuff on the news about animals going missing from Gotham Zoo.

Not much was known about how he was caught or how the lab exploded. No-one even knows what chemicals were used. And I guessed that was my job; to find out what he was using and where he got it. Then they would probably banned which would only make them more popular to the scum of Gotham. You speak as if you're not one of them. I shuddered to think what would happen if any drug dealers got hold of those chemicals. We'd probably have giant lizards running around the streets.

Surprisingly – apart from a few suspicious glances – no-one had troubled me about the Joker. I guess they had no need to now that some fancy german guy was on the job. Eliza knew not to mention anything I guess, she probably thought I was "recovering". She just rambled on about life in general and the Arkham superiors giving her a hard time. Not that I minded much – listening to people and sympathising is my job after all. Despite the fact that things seemed to die down a little, I still couldn't look at another pop tart without cringing.

I'd hidden the cards at the bottom of my underwear drawer, wishing that they'd just go away. After witnessing four murders in less than a month, you'd think I'd be in a bit of a bad state. On the contrary, I felt stronger. Knowledge is power.

I was a bit annoyed that I hadn't heard from Brody yet, but I couldn't blame him. I hoped that he simply didn't have to time to call me and not that he might be avoiding me. He didn't have a reason to if he was; it wasn't like it was my fault he'd been attacked.

_**Yes it was. **_

_How was I supposed to know what he'd do? It was only a pen._

_**Oh yeah sure I understand. Why don't we go and give all the residents of Arkham (a.k.a loads of psychopathic mass murderers) pens and I'm sure they'll stay harmless.**_

_I wasn't thinking of the bigger picture._

_**Evidently.**_

I sighed and banged my head against the table, running a hand through my hair. Why was my life so difficult? I knew I was being slightly selfish. Maybe more than slightly. I shouldn't exactly feel sorry for myself - loads of people in Gotham live in the narrows. And it was a lot worse in some areas; at least my care hadn't been stolen. Yet.

My desk was cluttered with millions of pieces of paper. I took of my glasses and pinched the bridge of my nose. Yawning, I wandered out of the living room/kitchen/office into my bedroom, fighting the urge to start talking to the fish again. It was 12 o'clock at night but I still couldn't get to sleep. Why? Bloody insomnia thats what. I was throwing a few pillows across the room in frustration when I heard my cell ring from under the duvet somewhere. After totally ransacking my room I finally found it, yelling in triumph.

_NEW MESSAGE - SKITTLESMANIAC_

I gritted my teeth, debating whether to ignore it or not. How dare she message me when I was waiting for a text from Brody? I rolled my eyes and opened it.

_Brodys bk Akhm! :D!_

I was probably supposed to be excited, but right now I was just pissed. Why the hell couldn't he tell me this? How did Eliza find out before me? She couldn't even remember who he was a few weeks ago! I threw the cell at the cluster of pillows strewn across the floor and collapsed onto the small bed (now free of my collection of pillows), trying to think of things I could say to confront Brody without sounding like a bitch.

* * *

It was my seventh meeting with the Joker that week, and he still wasn't talking. It was a strange case, but nothing I couldn't handle. I couldn't believe that they'd given such a young, inexperienced woman responsibility of the Joker. This kind of case could only be dealt with by professionals.

I'd flown in from Germany especially to teach these amateurs who called themselves professionals how it's done. Unfortunately, 'The Joker' wasn't making it very easy for me. I had dealt with many patients before, some raving mad and some quiet but fearful. But I'd managed to get all of them to talk in the end. Of course the Joker would be exactly the same, but he was just slightly more challenging.

I assumed he had some sort of dissociative identity disorder; he would never speak, just sit there and smiling as if he knew something I didn't. I noted that he could possibly have two or more personalities due to his random acts of violence and how he could switch from being a madman who attacked a security guard to quiet and calculating. Obviously he wasn't in a straight jacket chained to the wall for no reason.

I check my watch. We'd been in here 2 hours. Lots of other psychiatrists would've given up by now, but not I. I was so much more patient than them. I believe that by eventually boring the patients they will eventually talk. All people get lonely sometimes. Even if they did have personality disorders. I'd been running through lists in my head, trying to pinpoint exactly what condition he seemed to suffer from. It was well-known that he was classed criminally insane, but why? I knew he was a sociopath and a psychopath _**(yes there is a difference)**_ . There were so many possibilities; numerous psychologists had recorded so many different diagnoses such as antisocial personality disorder, schizophrenia, obviously ADHD was one, self-neglect etc.

The one that most caught my eyes was multiple personality disorder. It was a perfectly plausible idea; he could've self-inflicted the scars as he was depressed and one of his "voices" wanted him to smile more. When he told stories of the scars, despite them all being different, each personality could remember it differently. He had apparently once said to a psychiatrist that his past was multiple choice. It was difficult to hide the smile that twitched at the corners of my mouth at my idea.

The Joker frowned and cocked his head to the side. I stood up slowly, gathering up my notes. I'd have to search deeper into the Joker's records before I could come to an exact conclusion, but it was a start. I nodded my head to the deranged clown before turning around to leave.

_"There once was a doctor from Germany,_

_He was snobby and stuck-up and cocky,_

_But soon he will know,_

_This ain't the place to go,_

_If you don't wanna get your hands dirty."_

A gravelly sing-song voice recited. I spun around to face the Joker, confusion written over my features. He was smiling broadly now, his eyes alight with excitement as if this was the most entertainment he'd had all day. He stared at me expectantly, as if waiting for a more exciting , I adjusted my glasses on my nose, and turned back to the door, trying to hide the nervous sigh that escaped my lips.

Wait, nervous? Me? Ha! No, merely surprised. I was happy I'd got him to talk. Even if it hadn't been particularly productive. As I left the room, I heard him start to talk to himself again:

_"He liked to think he was clever,_

_Over everyone else he was better,_

_He would soon get a fright,_

_When day turned to night,_

_And its his head that we will then sever."_

I felt the blood run from my mouth and I ignored the goosebumps that rose on my arms. This clown could threaten me all he wanted, but he'd never get to me. As I continued on down the corridor, I hummed to myself to block out the sound of the frenzied cackling that seemed to follow me down the white halls, his poetry repeating itself over and over in my head.

* * *

_**Sorry again for another short chapter :( I do try to make them longer but I'm doing an English Language exam in a week and till then I'm on holiday! (I'm also trying to focus on GCSE Psychology but that kinda gone out the window right now). Plz review and tell me your thoughts and feel free to PM with with any ideas :)**_


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